THK  "GRAND  LEVER"  OF  THE  KING. 


THE    REFUGEES 


H  Gale  of  Gwo  Continents 


BY 


A.  CONAN   DOYLE 

AUTHOR   OF    "ADVENTURES    OF   SHERLOCK   HOLMES 

"MICAH  CLARKE"  ETC.,  ETC. 


ILLUSTRATED  BY  T.  DE  THULSTRUP 


NEW  YORK 
HARPER  &  BROTHERS  PUBLISHERS 


Copyright,  1893,  by  HARPER  &  BROTHERS. 

All  rights  reserved. 


TO 

MY   WIFE 

LOUISE  CONAN  DOYLE 

THIS    ROMANCE 


56  7  ~>  9-1 


PREFACE 

WERE  the  teller  of  an  old  tale  to  acknowledge  all  his 
sources  he  would  have  to  burden  his  book  with  a  bib- 
liography. No  man,  however,  can,  without  flagrant 
injustice,  write  upon  the  end  of  the  seventeenth  century 
at  the  French  Court  without  acknowledging  his  indebt- 
edness to  Miss  Julia  Pardoe,  nor  can  he  treat  American 
history  of  the  same  date  without  owing  much  to  Mr. 
Francis  Parkman. 

I  may  add  that  I  have  taken  some  slight  liberties 
with  history,  especially  by  compressing  events  which 
occurred  within  a  space  of  about  three  years  into  a 
very  much  shorter  time. 

A.  CONAN  DOYLE. 

SOUTH  NORWOOD,  March  14,  1892. 


CONTENTS 


PART  I. —THE  OLD  WORLD 

CHAP.  PAGE 

I.    THE   MAN   FROM  AMERICA 3 

II.    A   MONARCH    IN   DESHABILLE II 

III.  THE   HOLDING   OF  THE   DOOR 27 

IV.  THE   FATHER   OF  HIS   PEOPLE 35 

V.    CHILDREN    OF   BELIAL 45 

VI.    A   HOUSE 'OF  STRIFE ,      .  53 

VII.    THE  NEW   WORLD   AND  THE   OLD 67 

VIII.    THE    RISING    SUN 76 

IX.  LE   ROI    S' AMUSE 82 

X.  AN   ECLIPSE   AT   VERSAILLES 94 

XI.  THE  SUN   REAPPEARS 104 

XII.    THE  KING  RECEIVES 115 

XIII.  THE   KING  HAS   IDEAS 126 

XIV.  THE    LAST    CARD 131 

XV.    THE  MIDNIGHT  MISSION 138 

XVI.  "WHEN  THE   DEVIL  DRIVES" 145 

XVII.  THE    DUNGEON    OF  PORTILLAC 153 

XVIII.    A   NIGHT  OF  SURPRISES 161 

XIX.  IN  THE   KING'S  CABINET 171 

XX.  THE  TWO  FRANCOISES 183 

XXI.  THE  MAN   IN  THE  CALECHE 192 

XXII.  THE  SCAFFOLD  OF  PORTILLAC      ......  201 

XXIII.    THE   FALL   OF    THE  CATINATS c  207 


PART  II.  —  IN  THE  NEW  WORLD 

CHAF.  PAGE 

XXIV.  THE  START  OF  THE  "  GOLDEN  ROD"  ...  223 

XXV.  A  BOAT  OF  THE  DEAD 233 

XXVI.  THE  LAST  PORT 240 

XXVII.  A  DWINDLING  ISLAND 248 

XXVIII.  IN  THE  POOL  OF  QUEBEC 252 

XXIX.  THE   VOICE   AT  THE   PORT-HOLE 261 

XXX.  THE   INLAND   WATERS 27I 

XXXI.  THE  HAIRLESS   MAN 278 

XXXII.    THE    LORD    OF    SAINTE-MARIE  .       .      .      ...      .287 

XXXIII.  THE    SLAYING    OF   BROWN    MOOSE      ....  297 

XXXIV.  THE    MEN    OF    BLOOD 3!4 

XXXV.    THE   TAP    OF    DEATH 32I 

XXXVI.  THE   TAKING    OF   THE   STOCKADE 328 

XXXVII.  THE   CANOE    FROM   THE    NORTH 336 

XXXVIII.    THE   DINING-HALL   OF  SAINTE-MARIE  ....  345 

XXXIX.    THE   TWO   SWIMMERS 352 

XL.    UNITED 356 

NOTE   ON  THE   HUGUENOTS,  ETC 365 

NOTE  ON  THE   FUTURE  OF  LOUIS,  ETC.         .      .  365 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

THE  "GRAND   LEVER"   OF  THE   KING Frontispiece 

"'TELL  ME,  ADELE,  WHY  DO  YOU  LOOK  TROUBLED?'"  Faces  page    6 

THE  MAN   FROM   AMERICA      ........               .  "  "         8 

"  THE  OLD   HUGUENOT  STOOD   UP   WITH    A    GESTURE   OF 

DESPAIR " '      4O 

"'AT  six  O'CLOCK  YOU  LEAVE  VERSAILLES  FOREVER'"  "  "  100 

"'MARRY  THE  KING!'" "  "  108 

"'PASS    IT   THROUGH    MY    HEART,   SIRE1.'" "  "    122 

THE   PAGE '.  "  "    134 

IN  THE  KING'S  SERVICE "  "  140 

"'AT  THE  HORSE,  DESPARD,  AT  THE  HORSE!'".    .    .  "  "150 
"  A  WOMAN  HAD  DARTED  THROUGH  THE  OPEN  DOOR, 

AND  HAD  CAUGHT  THE  UPRAISED  WRIST"      ...  "  "  l88 

"  '  MAURICE  !'  SHE  SCREAMED,  '  MAURICE,  IT  IS  YOU  !' "  .  "  "  198 

"'DO  NOT  SIGN  IT,  SIRE!'" '*  "  214 

1 '  THAT  VERY  NIGHT  THERE  PASSED  OUT  A  SMALL  PARTY 

OF   FIVE" "  "    2l8 

THE  WEDDING  ON  BOARD  THE  "GOLDEN  ROD".    .    .  "  "  238 
"THERE  WAS  PERCHED  IN  FRONT  OF  THEM  NO  LESS  A 
PERSON  THAN  CAPTAIN  EPHRAIM  SAVAGE  OF  BOS- 
TON "     "  "246 

"HELD  IT  UP  TO  CAST  ITS  LIGHT  UPON  THEM"      .     .  "  "  267 

ESCAPE  FROM  THE  "  ST.  CHRISTOPHE "  ......  "  "  268 

ADVANCING  THROUGH  THE  FOREST "  "  278 


FATHER  IGNATIUS  MORAT Faces  page  2&2 

RECEIVED   BY   THE   SEIGNEUR   DE    SAINTE-MARIE     ...  "  "    294 

THE  LADY   OF   SAINTE-MARIE "  "298 

"  DE    LHUT   SPRANG   OUT   AND    BURIED   HIS   HATCHET   IN 

THE   SKULL   OF   THE   OLDER   WARRIOR  " "  "    308 

DEFENDING   THE   STOCKADE "  "332 

"'THIS    IS    DE   CATINAT,  THE   HERETIC*          "  "    340 

THE   ESCAPE   OF    THE    WOMEN "  "    342 

SAVED  ! "  "    362 


PART  I 

THE  OLD  WORLD 


CHAPTER    I 


THE    MAN    FROM    AMERICA 

|"T  was  the  sort  of  window  which  was 
common  in  Paris  about  the  end  of 
the  seventeenth  century.  It  was 
high,  mullioned,  with  a  broad  tran- 
som across  the  centre,  and  above  the 
middle  of  the  transom  a  tiny  coat  of 
arms  —  three  caltrops  gules  upon  a 
field  argent  —  let  into  the  diamond- 
paned  glass.  Outside  there  project- 
ed a  stout  iron  rod,  from  which  hung 
a  gilded  miniature  of  a  bale  of  wool 
which  swung  and  squeaked  with  ev- 
ery puff  of  wind.  Beyond  that  again 
were  the  houses  of  the  other  side, 
high,  narrow,  and  prim,  slashed  with 
diagonal  wood -work  in  front,  and 
topped  with  a  bristle  of  sharp  gables 
arjd  corner  turrets.  Between  were 
the  cobble-st  mes  of  the  Rue  St.  Mar- 
tin and  the  clatter  of  innumerable 
feet. 

Inside,  the  window  was  furnished 
with  abroad  bancal  of  brown  stamped 
Spanish  leather,  where  the  family 

might  recline  and  have  an  eye  from  behind  the  curtains  on 
all  that  was  going  forward  in  the  busy  world  beneath  them. 
Two  of  them  sat  there  now,  a  man  and  a  woman,  but  their 
backs  were  turned  to  the  spectacle,  and  their  faces  to  the 
large  and  richly  furnished  room.  From  time  to  time  they 

3 


stole  & 'glance  aV'ejaich'oAer,  &nd  their  eyes  told  that  they 
need'e'd  no  other  sfght'fo  make  them  happy. 

Nor  was  it  to  be  wondered  at,  for  they  were  a  well-favored 
pair.  She  was  very  young,  twenty  at  the  most,  with  a  face 
which  was  pale,  indeed,  and  yet  of  a  brilliant  pallor,  which 
was  so  clear  and  fresh,  and  carried  with  it  such  a  suggest- 
ion of  purity  and  innocence,  that  one  would  not  wish  its 
„  maiden  grace  to  be  marred  by  an  intrusion  of  color.  Her 
features  were  delicate  and  sweet,  and  her  blue-black  hair 
and  long  dark  eyelashes  formed  a  piquant  contrast  to  her 
dreamy  gray  eyes  and  her  ivory  skin.  In  her  whole  ex- 
pression there  was  something  quiet  and  subdued,  which  was 
accentuated  by  her  simple  dress  of  black  taffeta,  and  by 
the  little  jet  brooch  and  bracelet  which  were  her  sole  orna- 
ments. Such  was  Adele  Catinat,  the  only  daughter  of  the 
famous  Huguenot  cloth-merchant. 

But  if  her  dress  was  sombre,  it  was  atoned  for  by  the 
magnificence  of  her  companion.  He  was  a  man  who  might 
have  been  ten  years  her  senior,  with  a  keen  soldier  face, 
small  well  marked  features,  a  carefully  trimmed  black  mus- 
tache, and  a  dark  hazel  eye  which  might  harden  to  com- 
mand a  man,  or  soften  to  supplicate  a  woman,  and  be  suc- 
cessful at  either.  His  coat  was  of  sky-blue,  slashed  across 
with  silver  braidings,  and  with  broad  silver  shoulder-straps 
on  either  side.  A  vest  of  white  calamanco  peeped  out  from 
beneath  it,  and  knee-breeches  of  the  same  disappeared  into 
high  polished  boots  with  gilt  spurs  upon  the  heels.  A  sil- 
ver-hilted  rapier  and  a  plumed  cap  lying  upon  a  settle  be- 
side him  completed  a  costume  which  was  a  badge  of  honor 
to  the  wearer,  for  any  Frenchman  would  have  recognized 
it  as  being  that  of  an  officer  in  the  famous  Blue  Guard  of 
Louis  the  Fourteenth.  A  trim  dashing  soldier  he  looked, 
with  his  curling  black  hair  and  well-poised  head.  Such  he 
had  proved  himself  before  now  in  the  field,  too,  until  the 
name  of  Amory  de  Catinat  had  become  conspicuous  among 
the  thousands  of  the  valiant  lesser  noblesse  who  had  flocked 
into  the  service  of  the  King. 

They  were  first  cousins,  these  two,  and  there  was  just 
sufficient  resemblance  in  the  clear-cut  features  to  recall  the 

4 


relationship.  De  Catinat  was  sprung  from  a  noble  Hugue- 
not family,  but  having  lost  his  parents  early,  he  had  joined 
the  army,  and  had  worked  his  way  without  influence  and 
against  all  odds  to  his  present  position.-*  His  father's 
younger  brother,  however,  finding  every  path  to  fortune 
barred  to  him  through  the  persecution  to  which  men  of  his 
faith  were  already  subjected,  had  dropped  the  "  de  "  which 
implied  his  noble  descent,  and  had  taken  to  trade  in  the 
city  of  Paris,  with  such  success  that  he  was  now  one  of  the 
richest  and  most  prominent  citizens  of  the  town.  It  was 
under  his  roof  that  the  guardsman  now  sat,  and  it  was  his 
only  daughter  whose  white  hand  he  held  in  his  own. 

"Tell  me,  Adele,"  said  he,  "  why  do  you  look  troubled?" 

"  I  am  not  troubled,  Amory." 

"  Come,  there  is  just  one  little  line  between  those  curving 
brows.  Ah,  I  can  read  you,  you  see,  as  a  shepherd  reads 
the  sky." 

"  It  is  nothing,  Amory,  but — " 

"But  what?" 

"  You  leave  me  this  evening." 

"  But  only  to  return  to-morrow." 

"  And  must  you  really,  really  go  to-night  ?" 

"  It  would  be  as  much  as  my  commission  is  worth  to  be 
absent.  Why,  I  am  on  duty  to-morrow  morning  outside  the 
King's  bedroom !  After  chapel-time  Major  de  Brissac  will 
take  my  place,  and  then  I  am  free  once  more." 

"  Ah,  Amory,  when  you  talk  of  the  King  and  the  court 
and  the  grand  ladies,  you  fill  me  with  wonder." 

"  And  why  with  wonder  ?" 

"  To  think  that  you  who  live  amid  such  splendor  should 
stoop  to  the  humble  room  of  a  mercer." 

"  Ah,  but  what  does  the  room  contain  ?" 

"  There  is  the  greatest  wonder  of  all.  That  yoti  who  pass 
your  days  amid  such  people,  so  beautiful,'  so  witty,  should 
think  me  worthy  of  your  love,  me,  who  am  such  a  quiet 
little  mouse,  all  alone  in  this  great  house,  so  shy  and  so 
backward  !  It  is  wonderful !" 

"  Every  man  has  his  own  taste,"  said  her  cousin,  stroking 
the  tiny  hand.  "It  is  with  women  as  with  flowers/  Some 

5 


may  prefer  the  great  brilliant  sunflower,  or  the  rose,  which 
is  so  bright  and  large  that  it  must  ever  catch  the  eye.  But 
give  me  the  little  violet  which  hides  among  the  mosses,  and 
yet  is  so  sweet  to  look  upon,  and  sheds  its  fragrance  round 
it.  But  still  that  line  upon  your  brow,  dearest." 

"  I  was  wishing  that  father  would  return." 

"  And  why  ?     Are  you  so  lonely,  then  ?" 

Her  pale  face  lit  up  with  a  quick  smile.  "  I  shall  not  be 
lonely  until  to-night.  But  I  am  always  uneasy  when  he  is 
away.  One  hears  so  much  now  of  the  persecution  of  our 
poor  brethren." 

"Tut!  my  uncle  can  defy  them." 

"  He  has  gone  to  the  provost  of  the  Mercer  Guild  about 
this  notice  of  the  quartering  of  the  dragoons." 

"Ah,  you  have  not  told  me  of  that." 

"  Here  it  is."  She  rose  and  took  up  a  slip  of  blue  paper 
with  a  red  seal  dangling  from  it  which  lay  upon  the  table. 
His  strong  black  brows  knitted  together  as  he  glanced  at  it. 

"Take  notice,"  it  ran,  "that  you,  Theophile  Catinat, 
cloth-mercer  of  the  Rue  St.  Martin,  are  hereby  required  to 
give  shelter  and  rations  to  twenty  men  of  the  Languedoc 
Blue  Dragoons  under  Captain  Dalbert  until  such  time  as 
you  receive  a  further  notice.  [Signed]  De  Beaupre  (Com- 
missioner of  the  King)." 

De  Catinat  knew  well  how  this  method  of  annoying  Hu- 
guenots had  been  practised  all  over  France,  but  he  had 
flattered  himself  that  his  own  position  at  court  would  have 
insured  his  kinsman  from  such  an  outrage.  He  threw  the 
paper  down  with  an  exclamation  of  anger. 

"  When  do  they  come  ?" 

"  Father  said  to-night." 

"  Then  they  shall  not  be  here  long.  To-morrow  I  shall 
have  an  order  to  remove  them.  But  the  sun  has  sunk  be- 
hind St.  Martin's  Church,  and  I  should  already  be  upon 
my  way." 

"  No,  no ;  you  must  not  go  yet." 

"  I  would  that  I  could  give  you  into  your  father's  charge 
first,  for  I  fear  to  leave  you  alone  when  these  troopers  may 
come.  And  yet  no  excuse  will  avail  me  if  I  am  not  at  Ver- 

6 


TELL  ME,  ADELE,  WHY   DO  YOU   LOOK  TROUBLED  ?" 


sallies.  But  see,  a  horseman  has  stopped  before  the  door. 
He  is  not  in  uniform.  Perhaps  he  is  a  messenger  from 
your  father." 

The  girl  ran  eagerly  to  the  window,  and  peered  out,  with 
her  hand  resting  upon  her  cousin's  silver-corded  shoulder. 

"Ah !"  she  cried,  "  I  had  forgotten.  It  is  the  man  from 
America.  Father  said  that  he  would  come  to-day." 

"  The  man  from  America  P  repeated  the  soldier,  in  a 
tone  of  surprise,  and  they  both  craned  their  necks  from 
the  window. 

The  horseman,  a  sturdy,  broad  -  shouldered  young  man, 
clean-shaven  and  crop-haired,  turned  his  long  swarthy  face 
and  his  bold  features  in  their  direction  as  he  ran  his  eye 
over  the  front  of  the  house.  He  had  a  soft-brimmed  gray 
hat  of  a  shape  which  was  strange  to  Parisian  eyes,  but  his 
sombre  clothes  and  high  boots  were  such  as  any  citizen 
might  have  worn.  Yet  his  general  appearance  was  so  un- 
usual that  a  group  of  townsfolk  had  already  assembled 
round  him,  staring  with  open  mouth  at  his  horse  and  him- 
self. A  battered  gun  with  an  extremely  long  barrel  was 
fastened  by  the  stock  to  his  stirrup,  while  the  muzzle  stuck 
up  into  the  air  behind  him.  At  each  holster  was  a  large 
dangling  black  bag,  and  a  gayly  colored  red  slashed  blank- 
et was  rolled  up  at  the  back  of  his  saddle.  His  horse,  a 
strong-limbed  dapple-gray,  all  shiny  with  sweat  above,  and 
all  caked  with  mud  beneath,  bent  its  fore  knees  as  it  stood, 
as  though  it  were  overspent.  The  rider,  however,  having 
satisfied  himself  as  to  the  house,  sprang  lightly  out  of  his 
saddle,  and  disengaging  his  gun,  his  blanket,  and  his  bags, 
pushed  his  way  unconcernedly  through  the  gaping  crowd 
and  knocked  loudly  at  the  door. 

"Who  is  he,  then?"  asked  de  Catinat.  "A  Canadian? 
I  am  almost  one  myself.  I  had  as  many  friends  on  one 
side  of  the  sea  as  on  the  other.  Perchance  I  know  him. 
There  are  not  so  many  white  faces  yonder,  and  in  two 
years  there  was  scarce  one  from  the  Saguenay  to  Nipis- 
sing  that  I  had  not  seen." 

"  Nay,  he  is  from  the  English  provinces,  Amory.  But  he 
speaks  our  tongue.  His  mother  was  of  our  blood." 

7 


"  And  his  name  ?" 

"  Is  Amos — Amos — ah,  those  names  !  Yes,  Green,  that 
was  it  —  Amos  Green.  His  father  and  mine  have  done 
much  trade  together,  and  now  his  son,  who,  as  I  under- 
stand, has  lived  ever  in  the  woods,  is  sent  here  to  see  some- 
thing of  men  and  cities.  Ah,  my  God !  what  can  have 
happened  now  ?" 

A  sudden  chorus  of  screams  and  cries  had  broken  out 
from  the  passage  beneath,  with  the  shouting  of  a  man  and 
the  sound  of  rushing  steps.  In  an  instant  de  Catinat  was 
half-way  down  the  stairs,  and  was  staring  in  amazement  at 
the  scene  in  the  hall  beneath. 

Two  maids  stood,  screaming  at  the  pitch  of  their  lungs, 
at  either  side.  In  the  centre  the  old  man-servant  Pierre, 
a  stern  old  Calvinist,  whose  dignity  had  never  before  been 
shaken,  was  spinning  round,  waving  his  arms,  and  roaring 
so  that  he  might  have  been  heard  at  the  Louvre.  Attached 
to  the  gray  worsted  stocking  which  covered  his  fleshless 
calf  was  a  fluffy  black  hairy  ball,  with  one  little  red  eye 
glancing  up,  and  the  gleam  of  two  white  teeth  where  it  held 
its  grip.  At  the  shrieks,  the  young  stranger,  who  had  gone 
out  to  his  horse,  came  rushing  back,  and  plucking  the 
creature  off,  he  slapped  it  twice  across  the  snout,  and 
plunged  it  head  -  foremost  back  into  the  leather  bag  from 
which  it  had  emerged. 

"  It  is  nothing,"  said  he,  speaking  in  excellent  French ; 
"  it  is  only  a  bear." 

"  Ah,  my  God !"  cried  Pierre,  wiping  the  drops  from  his 
brow.  "Ah,  it  has  aged  me  five  years !  I  was  at  the  door, 
bowing  to  monsieur,  and  in  a  moment  it  had  me  from 
behind." 

"  It  was  my  fault  for  leaving  the  bag  loose.  The  creat- 
ure was  but  pupped  the  day  we  left  New  York,  six  weeks 
come  Tuesday.  Do  I  speak  with  my  father's  friend,  Mon- 
sieur Catinat  ?" 

"  No,  monsieur,"  said  the  guardsman,  from  the  staircase. 
"  My  uncle  is  out,  but  I  am  Captain  de  Catinat,  at  your 
service,  and  here  is  Mademoiselle  Catinat,  who  is  your 
hostess." 

8 


THE   MAN    FROM   AMERICA" 


The  stranger  ascended  the  stair,  and  paid  his  greetings 
to  them  both  with  the  air  of  a  man  who  was  as  shy  as  a 
wild  deer,  and  yet  who  had  steeled  himself  to  carry  a  thing 
through:  He  walked  with  them  to  the  sitting- room,  and 
then  in  an  instant  was  gone  again,  and  they  heard  his  feet 
thudding  upon  the  stairs.  Presently  he  was  back,  with  a 
lovely  glossy  skin  in  his  hands.  "The  bear  is  for  your 
father,  mademoiselle,"  said  he.  "  This  little  skin  I  have 
brought  from  America  for  you.  It  is  but  a  trifle,  and  yet 
it  may  serve  to  make  a  pair  of  moccasins  or  a  pouch." 

Adele  gave  a  cry  of  delight  as  her  hands  sank  into  the 
depths  of  its  softness.  She  might  well  admire  it,  for  no 
king  in  the  world  could  have  had  a  finer  skin.  "  Ah,  it  is 
beautiful,  monsieur,"  she  cried ;  "  and  what  creature  is  it ; 
and  where  did  it  come  from  ?" 

"  It  is  a  black  fox.  I  shot  it  myself  last  fall  up  near  the 
Iroquois  villages  at  Lake  Oneida." 

She  pressed  it  to  her  cheek,  her  white  face  showing  up 
like  marble  against  its  absolute  blackness.  "  I  am  sorry 
my  father  is  not  here  to  welcome  you,  monsieur,"  she  said  ; 
"but  I  do  so  very  heartily  in  his  place.  Your  room  is 
above.  Pierre  will  show  you  to  it,  if  you  wish." 

"  My  room  ?     For  what  ?" 

"Why,  monsieur,  to  sleep  in!" 

"And  must  I  sleep  in  a  room  ?" 

De  Catinat  laughed  at  the  gloomy  face  of  the  Amer- 
ican. "You  shall  not  sleep  there  if  you  do  not  wish," 
said  he. 

The  other  brightened  at  once,  and  stepped  across  to  the 
further  window,  which  looked  down  upon  the  court-yard. 
"  Ah,"  he  cried.  "  There  is  a  beech  -  tree  there,  made- 
moiselle, and  if  I  might  take  my  blanket  out  yonder,  I 
should  like  it  better  than  any  room.  In  winter,  indeed,  one 
must  do  it,  but  in  summer  I  am  smothered  with  a  ceiling 
pressing  down  upon  me." 

"  You  are  not  from  a  town,  then  ?"  said  de  Catinat. 

"My  father  lives  in  New  York  —  two  doors  from  the 
house  of  Peter  Stuyvesant,  of  whom  you  must  have  heard. 
He  is  a  very  hardy  man,  and  he  can  do  it,  but  I — even  a 

9 


few  days  of  Albany  or  of  Schenectady  are  enough  for  me. 
My  life  has  been  in  the  woods." 

"  I  am  sure  that  my  father  would  wish  you  to  sleep 
where  you  like  and  to  do  what  you  like,  as  long  as  it  makes 
you  happy." 

"  I  thank  you,  mademoiselle.  Then  I  shall  take  my 
things  out  there,  and  I  shall  groom  my  horse." 

"  Nay,  there  is  Pierre." 

"  I  am  used  to  doing  it  myself." 

"Then  I  will  come  with  you,"  said  de  Catinat,  "for  I 
would  have  a  word  with  you.  Until  to-morrow,  then,  Adele, 
farewell !" 

"  Until  to-morrow,  Amory." 

The  two  young  men  passed  down-stairs  together,  and  the 
guardsman  followed  the  American  out  into  the  yard. 

"  You  have  had  a  long  journey,"  he  said. 

"  Yes  ;  from  Rouen." 

"  Are  you  tired  ?" 

"No;  I  am  seldom  tired." 

"  Remain  with  the  lady,  then,  until  her  father  comes 
back." 

"  Why  do  you  say  that  ?" 

"  Because  I  have  to  go,  and  she  might  need  a  protector." 

The  stranger  said  nothing,  but  he  nodded,  and  throwing 
off  his  black  coat,  set  to  work  vigorously  rubbing  down  his 
travel-stained  horse. 


CHAPTER   II 
A  MONARCH    IN    DESHABILLE 

IT  was  the  morning  after  the  guardsman  had  returned  to 
his  duties.  Eight  o'clock  had  struck  on  the  great  clock  of 
Versailles,  and  it  was  almost  time  for  the  monarch  to  rise. 
Through  all  the  long  corridors  and  frescoed  passages  of  the 
monster  palace  there  was  a  subdued  hum  and  rustle,  with  a 
low  muffled  stir  of  preparation,  for  the  rising  of  the  King 
was  a  great  state  function  in  which  many  had  a  part  to 
play.  A  servant  with  a  steaming  silver  saucer  hurried 
past,  bearing  it  to  Monsieur  de  St.  Quentin,  the  state  bar- 
ber. Others,  with  clothes  thrown  over  their  arms,  bustled 
down  the  passage  which  led  to  the  antechamber.  The 
knot  of  guardsmen  in  their  gorgeous  blue  and  silver  coats 
straightened  themselves  up  and  brought  their  halberds  to 
attention,  while  the  young  officer,  who  had  been  looking 
wistfully  out  of  the  window  at  some  courtiers  who  were 
laughing  and  chatting  on  the  terraces,  turned  sharply  upon 
his  heel,  and  strode  over  to  the  white  and  gold  door  of  the 
royal  bedroom. 

He  had  hardly  taken  his  stand  there  before  the  handle 
was  very  gently  turned  from  within,  the  door  revolved 
noiselessly  upon  its  hinges,  and  a  man  slid  silently  through 
the  aperture,  closing  it  again  behind  him. 

"  Hush !"  said  he,  with  his  finger  to  his  thin,  precise 
lips,  while  his  whole  clean-shaven  face  and  high-arched 
brows  were  an  entreaty  and  a  warning.  "The  King  still 
sleeps." 

The  words  were  whispered  from  one  to  another  among 
the  group  who  had  assembled  outside  the  door.  The 
speaker,  who  was  Monsieur  Bontems,  head  valet  de  chambre, 

ii 


gave  a  sign  to  the  officer  of  the  guard,  and  led  him  into  the 
window  alcove  from  which  he  had  lately  come. 

"Good -morning,  Captain  de  Catinat,"  said  he,  with  a 
mixture  of  familiarity  and  respect  in  his  manner. 

"  Good-morning,  Bontems.     How  has  the  King  slept  ?" 

"Admirably." 

"  But  it  is  his  time." 

"  Hardly." 

"  You  will  not  rouse  him  yet  ?" 

"  In  seven  and  a  half  minutes."  The  valet  pulled  out 
the  little  round  watch  which  gave  the  law  to  the  man  who 
way  the  law  to  twenty  millions  of  people.  "Who  com- 
mands at  the  main  guard  ?" 

"  Major  de  Brissac/' 

"  And  you  will  be  here  ?" 

"  For  four  hours  I  attend  the  King." 

"  Very  good.  He  gave  me  some  instructions  for  the  of- 
ficer of  the  guard,  when  he  was  alone  last  night  after  the 
petit  coucher.  He  bade  me  to  say  that  Monsieur  de  Vivonne 
was  not  to  be  admitted  to  the  grand  lever.  You  are  to  tell 
him  so." 

"  I  shall  do  so." 

"  Then,  should  a  note  come  from  her — you  understand 
me,  the  new  one — 

"  Madame  de  Maintenon  ?" 

"  Precisely/  But  it  is  more  discreet  not  to  mention  names. 
Should  she  send  a  note,  you  will  take  it  and  deliver  it 
quietly  when  the  King  gives  you  an  opportunity." 

"  It  shall  be  done." 

"  But  if  the  other  should  come,  as  is  possible  enough — 
the  other,  you  understand  me,  the  former — 

"  Madame  de  Montespan." 

"  Ah,  that  soldierly  tongue  of  yours,  Captain  !  Should 
she  come,  I  say,  you  will  gently  bar  her  way,  with  courteous 
words,  you  understand,  but  on  no  account  is  she  to  be  per- 
mitted to  enter  the  royal  room." 

"  Very  good,  Bontems." 

"And  now  we  have  but  three  minutes."  He  strode 
through  the  rapidly  increasing  group  of  people  in  the  cor- 


ridor  with  an  air  of  proud  humility,  as  befitted  a  man  who, 
if  he  was  a  valet,  was  at  least  the  king  of  valets  by  being 
the  valet  of  the  King.  Close  by  the  door  stood  a  line  of 
footmen,  resplendent  in  their  powdered  wigs,  reef  plush  coats, 
and  silver  shoulder-knots. 

"  Is  the  officer  of  the  ovens  here  ?"  asked  Bontems. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  replied  a  functionary  who  bore  in  front  of  him 
an  enamelled  tray  heaped  with  pine  shavings. 

"  The  opener  of  the  shutters  ?" 

"  Here,  sir." 

"  The  remover  of  the  taper  ?" 

"  Here,  sir." 

'*  Be  ready  for  the  word."  He  turned  the  handle  once 
more,  and  slipped  into  the  darkened  room. 

It  was  a  large,  square  apartment,  with  two  high  windows 
upon  the  further  side,  curtained  across  with  priceless  velvet 
hangings.  Through  the  chinks  the  morning  sun  shot  a  few 
little  gleams,  which  widened  as  they  crossed  the  room  to 
break  in  bright  blurs  of  light  upon  the  primrose-tinted  wall 
A  large  arm-chair  stood  by  the  side  of  the  burned-out  fire, 
shadowed  over  by  the  huge  marble  mantel-piece,  the  back 
of  which  was  carried  up,  twining  and  curving  into  a  thou- 
sand arabesque  and  armorial  devices,  until  it  blended  with 
the  richly  painted  ceiling.  In  one  corner  a  narrow  couch 
with  a  rug  thrown  across  it  showed  where  the  faithful  Bon- 
tems had  spent  the  night. 

In  the  very  centre  of  the  chamber  there  stood  a  large  four- 
post  bed,  with  curtains  of  Gobelin  tapestry  looped  back 
from  the  pillow.  A  square  of  polished  rails  surrounded  it, 
leaving  a  space  some  five  feet  in  width  all  round  between 
the  enclosure  and  the  bedside.  Within  this  enclosure,  or 
ruelle,  stood  a  small  round  table,  covered  over  with  a  white 
napkin,  upon  which  lay  a  silver  platter  and  an  enamelled 
cup,  the  one  containing  a  little  Frontiniac  wine  and  water, 
and  the  other  bearing  three  slices  of  the  breast  of  a  chicken, 
in  case  the  King  should  hunger  during  the  night. 

As  Bontems  passed  noiselessly  across  the  room,  his  feet 
sinking  into  the  moss-like  carpet,  there  was  the  heavy  close 
smell  of  sleep  in  the  air,  and  he  could  hear  the  long  thin 
B  13 


breathing  of  the  sleeper.  He  passed  through  the  opening 
in  the  rails,  and  stood,  watch  in  hand,  waiting  for  the  exact 
instant  when  the  iron  routine  of  the  court  demanded  that 
the  monarch  should  be  roused.  Beneath  him,  from  under 
the  costly  green  coverlet  of  Oriental  silk,  half  buried  in  the 
fluffy  Valenciennes  lace  which  edged  the  pillow,  there  pro- 
truded a  round  black  bristle  of  close-cropped  hair,  with  the 
profile  of  a  curving  nose  and  petulant  lip  outlined  against 
the  white  background.  The  valet  snapped  his  watch,  and 
bent  over  the  sleeper. 

"  I  have  the  honor  to  inform  your  Majesty  that  it  is  half- 
past  eight,"  said  he. 

"  Ah  !"  The  King  slowly  opened  his  large  dark-brown 
eyes,  made  the  sign  of  the  cross,  and  kissed  a  little  dark 
reliquary  which  he  drew  from  under  his  night-dress.  Then 
he  sat  up  in  bed,  and  blinked  about  him  with  the  air  of  a 
man  who  is  collecting  his  thoughts. 

"  Did  you  give  my  orders  to  the  officer  of  the  guard, 
Bontems  ?"  he  asked. 

"  Yes,  sire." 

"  Who  is  on  duty  ?" 

"  Major  de  Brissac  at  the  main  guard,  and  Captain  de 
Catinat  in  the  corridor." 

"  De  Catinat !  Ah,  the  young  man  who  stopped  my  horse 
at  Fontainebleau.  I  remember  him.  You  may  give  the  sig- 
nal, Bontems." 

The  chief  valet  walked  swiftly  across  to  the  door  and 
threw  it  open.  In  rushed  the  officer  of  the  ovens  and  the 
four  red-coated,  white-wigged  footmen,  ready-handed,  silent- 
footed,  each  intent  upon  his  own  duties.  The  one  seized 
upon  Bontems's  rug  and  couch,  and  in  an  instant  had 
whipped  them  off  into  an  antechamber ;  another  had  carried 
away  the  "  en  cas  "  meal  and  the  silver  taper-stand ;  while  a 
third  drew  back  the  great  curtains  of  stamped  velvet  and 
let  a  flood  of  light  into  the  apartment.  Then,  as  the  flames 
were  already  flickering  among  the  pine  shavings  in  the  fire- 
place, the  officer  of  the  ovens  placed  two  round  logs  cross- 
wise above  them,  for  the  morning  air  was  chilly,  and  with- 
drew with  his  fellow-servants. 

14 


They  were  hardly  gone  before  a  more  august  group  en- 
tered the  bedchamber.  Two  walked  together  in  front,  the 
one  a  youth  little  over  twenty  years  of  age, -"middle-sized, 
inclining  to  stoutness,  with  a  slow,  pompous  bearing,  a  well- 
turned  leg,  and  a  face  which  was  comely  enough  in  a  mask- 
like  fashion,  but  which  was  devoid  of  any  shadow  of  ex- 
pression, except  perhaps  of  an  occasional  lurking  gleam  of 
mischievous  humor.  He  was  richly  clad  in  plum-colored 
velvet,  with  a  broad  band  of  blue  silk  across  his  breast,  and 
the  glittering  edge  of  the  order  of  St.  Louis  protruding  from 
under  it.  His  companion  was  a  man  of  forty,  swarthy,  dig- 
nified, and  solemn,  in  a  plain  but  rich  dress  of  black  silk 
with  slashes  of  gold  at  the  neck  and  sleeves.  As  the  pair 
faced  the  King  there  was  sufficient  resemblance  between 
the  three  faces  to  show  that  they  were  of  one  blood,  and  to 
enable  a  stranger  to  guess  that  the  older  was  Monsieur,  the 
younger  brother  of  the  King,  while  the  other  was  Louis  the 
Dauphin,  his  only  legitimate  child,  and  heir,  to  a  throne  to 
which,  in  the  strange  workings  of  Providence,  neither  he  nor 
his  sons  were  destined  to  ascend. 

Strong  as  was  the  likeness  between  the  three  faces,  each 
with  the  curving  Bourbon  nose,  the  large  full  eye,  and  the 
thick  Hapsburg  under-lip,  their  common  heritage  from  Anne 
of  Austria,  there  was  still  a  vast  difference  of  temperament 
and  character  stamped  upon  their  features.  The  King  was 
now  in  his  six-and-fortieth  year,  and  the  cropped  black  head 
was  already  thinning  a  little  on  the  top,  and  shading  away 
to  gray  over  the  temples.  He  still,  however,  retained  much 
of  the  beauty  of  his  youth,  tempered  by  the  dignity  and 
sternness  which  increased  with  his  years.  His  dark  eyes 
were  full  of  expression,  and  his  clear-cut  features  were  the 
•delight  of  the  sculptor  and  the  painter.  His  firm  and  yet 
sensitive  mouth  and  his  thick,  well-arched  brows  gave  an  air 
of  authority  and  power  to  his  face,  while  the  more  subdued 
expression  which  was  habitual  to  his  brother  marked  the 
man  whose  whole  life  had  been  spent  in  one  long  exercise 
of  deference  and  self-effacement.  The  Dauphin,  on  the 
other  hand,  with  a  more  regular  face  than  his  father,  had 
none  of  that  quick  play  of  feature  when  excited,  or  that 

15 


kingly  serenity  when  composed,  which  had  made  a  shrewd 
observer  say  that  Louis,  if  he  were  not  the  greatest  mon- 
arch that  ever  lived,  was  at  least  the  best  fitted  to  act  the 
part. 

Behind  the  King's  son  and  the  King's  brother  there  en- 
tered a  little  group  of  notables  and  of  officials  whom  duty 
had  called  to  this  daily  ceremony.  There  was  the  grand 
master  of  the  robes,  the  first  lord  of  the  bedchamber,  the 
Due  du  Maine,  a  pale  youth  clad  in  black  velvet,  limping 
heavily  with  his  left  leg,  and  his  little  brother,  the  young 
Comte  de  Toulouse,  both  of  them  the  illegitimate  sons  of 
Madame  de  Montaspan  and  the  King.  Behind  them,  again, 
was  the  first  valet  of  the  wardrobe,  followed  by  Fagon,  the 
first  physician,  Telier,  the  head  surgeon,  and  three  pages  in 
scarlet  and  gold  who  bore  the  royal  clothes.  Such  were 
the  partakers  in  the  family  entry,  the  highest  honor  which 
the  court  of  France  could  aspire  to. 

Bontems  had  poured  on  the  King's  hands  a  few  drops  of 
spirits  of  wine,  catching  them  again  in  a  silver  dish  ;  and 
the  first  lord  of  the  bedchamber  had  presented  the  bowl  of 
holy  water,  with  which  he  made  the  sign  of  the  cross,  mutter- 
ing to  himself  the  short  office  of  the  Holy  Ghost.  Then,  with 
a  nod  to  his  brother  and  a  short  word  of  greeting  to  the 
Dauphin  and  to  the  Due  du  Maine,  he  swung  his  legs  over 
the  side  of  the  bed,  and  sat  in  his  long  silken  night-dress, 
his  little  white  feet  dangling  from  beneath  it — a  perilous 
position  for  any  man  to  assume,  were  it  not  that  he  had  so 
heart-felt  a  sense  of  his  own  dignity  that  he  could  not  real- 
ize that  under  any  circumstances  it  might  be  compromised 
in  the  eyes  of  others.  So  he  sat,  the  master  of  France,  and 
yet  the  slave  to  every  puff  of  wind,  for  a  wandering  draught 
had  set  him  shivering  and  shaking.  Monsieur  de  St.  Quen- 
tin,  the  noble  barber,  flung  a  purple  dressing-gown  over  the 
royal  shoulders,  and  placed  a  long  many-curled  court  wig 
upon  his  head,  while  Bontems  drew  on  his  red  stockings  and 
laid  before  him  his  slippers  of  embroidered  velvet.  The 
monarch  thrust  his  feet  into  them,  tied  his  dressing-gown, 
and  passed  out  to  the  fireplace,  where  he  settled  himself 
down  in  his  easy-chair,  holding  out  his  thin,  delicate  hands 

16 


towards  the  blazing  logs,  while  the  others  stood  round  in 
a  semicircle,  waiting  for  the  grand  lever  which  was  to  follow. 

"  How  is  this,  messieurs  ?"  the  King  askfcd  suddenly, 
glancing  round  him  with  a  petulant  face.  "  I  am  conscious 
of  a  smell  of  scent.  Surely  none  of  you  would  venture  to 
bring  perfume  into  the  presence,  knowing,  as  you  must  all 
do,  how  offensive  it  is  to  me." 

The  little  group  glanced  from  one  to  the  other  with  prot- 
estations of  innocence.  The  faithful  Bontems,  however, 
with  his  stealthy  step,  had  passed  along  behind  them,  and 
had  detected  the  offender. 

"  My  lord  of  Toulouse,  the  smell  comes  from  you,"  he  said. 

The  Comte  de  Toulouse,  a  little  ruddy-cheeked  lad, 
flushed  up  at  the  detection. 

"  If  you  please,  sire,  it  is  possible  that  Mademoiselle  de 
Grammont  may  have  wet  my  coat  with  her  casting -bottle 
when  we  all  played  together  at  Marly  yesterday,"  he  stam- 
mered. "  I  had  not  observed  it,  but  if  it  offends  your 
Majesty — " 

"  Take  it  away !  take  it  away  !"  cried  the  King.  "  Pah  ! 
it  chokes  and  stifles  me !  Open  the  lower  casement,  Bon- 
tems. No ;  never  heed,  now  that  he  is  gone.  Monsieur  de 
SL  Quentin,  is  this  not  our  shaving  morning  ?" 

"  Yes,  sire  ;  all  is  ready." 

"  Then  why  not  proceed  ?  It  is  three  minutes  after  the 
accustomed  time.  To  work,  sir ;  and  you,  Bontems,  give 
word  for  the  grand  lever." 

It  was  obvious  that  the  King  was  not  in  a  very  good 
humor  that  morning.  He  darted  little  quick  questioning 
glances  at  his  brother  and  at  his  sons,  but  whatever  com- 
plaint or  sarcasm  may  have  trembled  upon  his  lips  was 
effectually  stifled  by  de  St.  Quentin's  ministrations.  With 
the  nonchalance  born  of  long  custom,  the  official  covered 
the  royal  chin  with  soap,  drew  the  razor  swiftly  round  it, 
and  sponged  over  the  surface  with  spirits  of  wine.  A  noble- 
man then  helped  to  draw  on  the  King's  black  velvet  haut- 
de-chausses,  a  second  assisted  in  arranging  them,  while  a 
third  drew  the  night-gown  over  the  shoulders  and  handed 
the  royal  shirt,  which  had  been  warming  before  the  fire. 

17 


His  diamond -buckled  shoes,  his  gaiters,  and  his  scarlet 
inner  vest  were  successively  fastened  by  noble  courtiers, 
each  keenly  jealous  of  his  own  privilege,  and  over  the  vest 
was  placed  the  blue  ribbon  with  the  cross  of  the  Holy 
Ghost  in  diamonds,  and  that  of  St.  Louis  tied  with  red.  To 
one  to  whom  the  sight  was  new,  it  might  have  seemed 
strange  to  see  the  little  man,  listless,  passive,  with  his  eyes 
fixed  thoughtfully  on  the  burning  logs,  while  this  group  of 
men,  each  with  a  historic  name,  bustled  round  him,  adding 
a  touch  here  and  a  touch  there,  like  a  knot  of  children  with 
a  favorite  doll.  The  black  under-coat  was  drawn  on,  the 
cravat  of  rich  lace  adjusted,  the  loose  overcoat  secured,  two 
handkerchiefs  of  costly  point  carried  forward  upon  an  en- 
amelled saucer,  and  thrust  by  separate  officials  into  each 
side  pocket,  the  silver  and  ebony  cane  laid  to  hand,  and  the 
monarch  was  ready  for  the  labors  of  the  day. 

During  the  half-hour  or  so  which  had  been  occupied  in 
this  manner  there  had  been  a  constant  opening  and  closing 
of  the  chamber  door,  and  a  muttering  of  names  from  the 
captain  of  the  guard  to  the  attendant  in  charge,  and  from 
the  attendant  in  charge  to  the  first  gentleman  of  the  cham- 
ber, ending  always  in  the  admission  of  some  new  visitor. 
Each  as  he  entered  bowed  profoundly  three  times,  as  a 
salute  to  majesty,  and  then  attached  himself  to  his  own 
little  clique  or  coterie,  to  gossip  in  a  low  voice  over  the 
news,  the  weather,  and  the  plans  of  the  day.  Gradually 
the  numbers  increased,  until  by  the  time  the  King's  frugal 
first  breakfast  of  bread  and  twice-watered  wine  had  been 
carried  in,  the  large  square  chamber  was  quite  filled  with  a 
throng  of  men,  many  of  whom  had  helped  to  make  the 
epoch  the  most  illustrious  of  French  history.  Here,  close 
by  the  King,  was  the  harsh  but  energetic  Louvois,  all- 
powerful  now  since  the  death  of  his  rival  Colbert,  discuss- 
ing a  question  of  military  organization  with  two  officers, 
the  one  a  tali  and  stately  soldier,  the  other  a  strange  little 
figure,  undersized  and  misshapen,  but  bearing  the  insignia 
of  a  Marshal  of  France,  and  owning  a  name  which  was  of 
evil  omen  over  the  Dutch  frontier,  for  Luxembourg  was 
looked  upon  already  as  the  successor  of  Condd,  even  as  his 

18 


companion  Vauban  was  of  Turenne.  Beside  them,  a  small 
white-haired  clerical  with  a  kindly  face,  Pere  La  Chaise,  con- 
fessor to  the  King,  was  whispering  his  views^upon  Jansen- 
ism to  the  portly  Bossuet,  the  eloquent  Bishop  of  Meaux, 
and  to  the  tall  thin  young  Abbe  de  Fenelon,  who  listened 
with  a  clouded  brow,  for  it  was  suspected  that  his  own 
opinions  were  tainted  with  the  heresy  in  question.  There, 
too,  was  Le  Brun,  the  painter,  discussing  art  in  a  small 
circle  which  contained  his  fellow-workers  Verrio  and  La- 
guerre,  the  architects  Blondel  and  Le  Notre,  and  the  sculp- 
tors Girardon,  Puget,  Desjardins,  and  Coysevox,  whose 
works  had  done  so  much  to  beautify  the  new  palace  of  the 
King.  Close  to  the  door,  Racine,  with  his  handsome  face 
wreathed  in  smiles,  was  chatting  with  the  poet  Boileau  and 
the  architect  Mansard,  the  three  laughing  and  jesting  with 
the  freedom  which  was  natural  to  the  favorite  servants  of 
the  King,  the  only  subjects  who  might  walk  unannounced 
and  without  ceremony  into  and  out  of  his  chamber. 

"  What  is  amiss  with  him  this  morning  ?"  asked  Boileau, 
in  a  whisper,  nodding  his  head  in  the  direction  of  the  royal 
group.  "  I  fear  that  his  sleep  has  not  improved  his  temper." 

"  He  becomes  harder  and  harder  to  amuse,"  said  Racine, 
shaking  his  head.  "  I  am  to  be  at  Madame  de  Maintenon's 
room  at  three  to  see  whether  a  page  or  two  of  the  Phedre 
may  not  work  a  change." 

"  My  friend,"  said  the  architect,  "  do  you  not  think  that 
madame  herself  might  be  a  better  consoler  than  your 
Phedre  9" 

"  Madame  is  a  wonderful  woman.  She  has  brains,  she 
has  heart,  she  has  tact — she  is  admirable." 

"  And  yet  she  has  one  gift  too  many." 

"  And  that  is  ?" 

"  Age." 

"  Pooh  !  What  matter  her  years  when  she  can  carry 
them  like  thirty  ?  What  an  eye  !  What  an  arm  !  And 
besides,  my  friends,  he  is  rit>t  hynself  a  boy  any  longer." 

"  Ah,  but  that  is  another  thing." 

"  A  man's  age  is  an  incident,  a  woman's  a  calamity." 

"  Very  true.  But  a  young  man  consults  his  eye,  and  an 

19 


older  man  his  ear.  Over  forty,  it  is  the  clever  tongue  which 
wins  ;  under  it,  the  pretty  face." 

"  Ah,  you  rascal !  Then  you  have  made  up  your  mind 
that  five-and-forty  years  with  tact  will  hold  the  field  against 
nine-and- thirty  with  beauty.  Well,  when  your  lady  has  won, 
she  will  doubtless  remember  who  were  the  first  to  pay 
court  to  her." 

"  But  I  think  you  are  wrong,  Racine." 

"  Well,  we  shall  see." 

"  And  if  you  are  wrong — " 

"Well,  what  then?" 

"  Then  it  may  be  a  little  serious  for  you." 

"  And  why  ?" 

"  The  Marquise  de  Montespan  has  a  memory." 

"  Her  influence  may  soon  be  nothing  more." 

"  Do  not  rely  too  much  upon  it,  my  friend.  When  the 
Fontanges  came  up  from  Provence,  with  her  blue  eyes  and 
her  copper  hair,  it  was  in  every  man's  mouth  that  Montes- 
pan had  had  her  day.  Yet  Fontanges  is  six  feet  under  a 
church  crypt,  and  the  Marquise  spent  two  hours  with  the 
King  last  week.  She  has  won  once,  and  may  again." 

"  Ah,  but  this  is  a  very  different  rival.  This  is  no  slip  of 
a  country  girl,  but  the  cleverest  woman  in  France." 

"  Pshaw,  Racine,  you  know  our  dear  master  well,  or  you 
should,  for  you  seem  to  have  been  at  his  elbow  since  the 
days  of  the  Fronde.  Is  he  a  man,  think  you,  to  be  amused 
forever  by  sermons,  or  to  spend  his  days  at  the  feet  of  a 
lady  of  that  age,  watching  her  at  her  tapestry-work,  and  fond- 
ling her  poodle,  when  all  the  fairest  faces  and  brightest  eyes 
of  France  are  as  thick  in  his  salons  as  the  tulips  in  a  Dutch 
flower  bed  ?  No,  no  ;  it  will  be  the  Montespan,  or  if  not 
she,  some  younger  beauty." 

"  My  dear  Boileau,  I  say  again  that  her  sun  is  setting. 
Have  you  not  heard  the  news  ?" 

"  Not  a  word." 

"  Her  brother,  Monsieur  de  Yivonne,  has  been  refused 
the  entr'ee." 

"  Impossible !" 

"  But  it  is  a  fact." 

20 


"  And  when  ?" 

"This  very  morning." 

"  From  whom  had  you  it  ?"  ^ 

"From  de  Catinat,  the  captain  of  the  guard.  He  had 
his  orders  to  bar  the  way  to  him." 

"  Ha  !  then  the  King  does  indeed  mean  mischief.  That  is 
why  his  brow  is  so  cloudy  this  morning,  then.  By  my  faith, 
if  the  Marquise  has  the  spirit  with  which  folk  credit  her,  he 
may  find  that  it  was  easier  to  win  her  than  to  slight  her." 

"  Ay ;  the  Mortemarts  are  no  easy  race  to  handle." 

"  Well,  Heaven  send  him  a  safe  way  out  of  it !  But  who  is 
this  gentleman  ?  His  face  is  somewhat  grimmer  than  those 
to  which  the  court  is  accustomed.  Ha !  the  King  catches 
sight  of  him,  and  Louvois  beckons  to  him  to  advance.  By 
my  faith,  he  is  one  who  would  be  more  at  his  ease  in  a 
tent  than  under  a  painted  ceiling." 

The  stranger  who  had  attracted  Racine's  attention  was  a 
tall  thin  man,  with  a  high  aquiline  nose,  stern  fierce  gray 
eyes,  peeping  out  from  under  tufted  brows,  and  a  counte- 
nance so  lined  and  marked  by  age,  care,  and  stress  of 
weather  that  it  stood  out  amid  the  prim  courtier  faces 
which  surrounded  it  as  an  old  hawk  might  in  a  cage  of 
birds  of  gay  plumage.  He  was  clad  in  the  sombre-colored 
suit  which  had  become  usual  at  court  since  the  King  had 
put  aside  frivolity  and  Fontanges,  but  the  sword  which 
hung  from  his  waist  was  no  fancy  rapier,  but  a  good  brass- 
hilted  blade  in  a  stained  leather  sheath,  which  showed 
every  sign  of  having  seen  hard  service.  He  had  been 
standing  near  the  door,  his  black -feathered  beaver  in  his 
hand,  glancing  with  a  half-amused,  half-disdainful  expres- 
sion at  the  groups  of  gossips  around  him ;  but  at  the  sign 
from  the  minister  of  war  he  began  to  elbow  his  way  for- 
ward, pushing  aside  in  no  very  ceremonious  fashion  all 
who  barred  his  passage. 

Louis  possessed  in  a  high  degree  the  royal  faculty  of 
recognition.  "  It  is  years  since  I  have  seen  him,  but  I  re- 
member his  face  well,"  said  he,  turning  to  his  minister. 
"  It  is  the  Comte  de  Frontenac,  is  it  not  ?" 

"Yes,  sire,"  answered  Louvois;  "it  is  indeed  Louis  de 

21 


Buade,  Comte  de  Frontenac,  and  formerly  Governor  of 
Canada." 

"We  are  glad  to  see  you  once  more  at  our  lever"  said 
the  monarch,  as  the  old  nobleman  stooped  his  head  and 
kissed  the  white  hand  which  was  extended  to  him.  "  I 
hope  that  the  cold  of  Canada  has  not  chilled  the  warmth 
of  your  loyalty." 

"  Only  death  itself,  sire,  would  be  cold  enough  for  that." 

"Then  I  trust  that  it  may  remain  to  us  for  many  long 
years.  We  would  thank  you  for  the  care  and  pains  which 
you  have  spent  upon  our  province,  and  if  we  have  recalled 
you,  it  is  chiefly  that  we  would  fain  hear  from  your  own 
lips  how  all  things  go  there.  And  first,  as  the  affairs  of 
God  take  precedence  of  those  of  France,  how  does  the  con- 
version of  the  heathen  prosper  ?" 

"We  cannot  complain,  sire.  The  good  fathers,  both 
Jesuits  and  Recollets,  have  done  their  best,  though  indeed 
they  are  both  rather  ready  to  abandon  the  affairs  of  the 
next  world  in  order  to  meddle  with  those  of  this." 

"  What  say  you  to  that,  father  ?"  asked  Louis,  glancing, 
with  a  twinkle  of  the  eyes,  at  his  Jesuit  confessor. 

"  I  say,  sire,  that  when  the  affairs  of  this  world  have  a 
bearing  upon  those  of  the  next,  it  is  indeed  the  duty  of  a 
good  priest,  as  of  every  other  good  Catholic,  to  guide  them 
right." 

"That  is  very  true,  sire,"  said  de  Frontenac,  with  an 
angry  flush  upon  his  swarthy  cheek ;  "  but  as  long  as  your 
Majesty  did  me  the  honor  to  intrust  those  affairs  to  my 
own  guidance,  I  would  brook  no  interference  in  the  per- 
formance of  my  duties,  whether  the  meddler  were  clad  in 
coat  or  cassock." 

"Enough,  sir,  enough!"  said  Louis,  sharply.  "I  had 
asked  you  about  the  missions." 

"They  prosper,  sire.  There  are  Iroquois  at  the  Sault 
and  the  mountain,  Hurons  at  Lorette,  and  Algonquins 
along1  the  whole  river  cotes  from  Tadousac  in  the  East  to 
Sault  la  Marie,  and  even  the  great  plains  of  the  Dakotas, 
who  have  all  taken  the  cross  as  their  token.  Marquette 
has  passed  down  the  river  of  the  West  to  preach  among 

22 


the  Illinois,  and  Jesuits  have  carried  the  gospel  even 
to  the  warriors  of  the  Long  House  in  their  wigwams  at 
Onondaga."  ^ 

"  I  may  add,  your  Majesty,"  said  Pere  La  Chaise,  "  that 
in  leaving  the  truth  there,  they  have  too  often  left  their 
lives  with  it." 

"  Yes,  sire,  it  is  very  true,"  cried  de  Frontenac,  cordially. 
"Your  Majesty  has  many  brave  men  within  his  domains, 
but  none  braver  than  these.  They  have  come  back  up  the 
Richelieu  River  from  the  Iroquois  villages  with  their  nails 
gone,  their  fingers  torn  out,  a  cinder  where  their  eye  should 
be,  and  the  scars  of  the  pine  splinters  as  thick  upon  their 
bodies  as  the  fleurs-de-lis  on  yonder  curtain.  Yet,  with  a 
month  of  nursing  from  the  good  Ursulines,  they  have  used 
their  remaining  eye  to  guide  them  back  to  the  Indian  coun- 
try once  more,  where  even  the  dogs  have  been  frightened 
at  their  haggled  faces  and  twisted  limbs." 

"  And  you  have  suffered  this  ?"  cried  Louis,  hotly.  "  You 
allow  these  infamous  assassins  to  live  ?" 

"  I  have  asked  for  troops,  sire." 

"  And  I  have  sent  some." 

"  One  regiment." 

"  The  Carignan-Saliere.    I  have  no  better  in  my  service." 

"  But  more  is  needed,  sire."' 

"  There  are  the  Canadians  themselves.  Have  you  not  a 
militia  ?  Could  you  not  raise  force  enough  to  punish  these 
rascally  murderers  of  God's  priests  ?  I  had  always  under- 
stood that  you  were  a  soldier." 

De  Frontenac's  eyes  flashed,  and  a  quick  answer  seemed 
for  an  instant  to  tremble  upon  his  lips,  but  with  an  effort 
the  fiery  old  man  restrained  himself.  "  Your  Majesty  will 
learn  best  whether  I  am  a  soldier  or  not,"  said  he,  "  by  ask- 
ing, those  who  have  seen  me  at  Seneffe,  Mulhausen,  Salz- 
bach,  and  half  a  score  of  other  places  where  I  had  the 
honor  of  upholding  your  Majesty's  cause." 

"  Your  services  have  not  been  forgotten." 

"  It  is  just  because  I  am  a  soldier  and  have  seen  some- 
thing of  war  that  I  know  how  hard  it  is  to  penetrate  into  a 
country  much  larger  than  the  Lowlands,  all  thick  with 

23 


forest  and  bog,  with  a  savage  lurking  behind  every  tree, 
who,  if  he  has  not  learned  to  step  in  time  or  to  form  line, 
can  at  least  bring  down  the  running  caribou  at  two  hun- 
dred paces,  and  travel  three  leagues  to  your  one.  And 
then  when  you  have  at  last  reached  their  villages,  and 
burned  their  empty  wigwams  and  a  few  acres  of  maize 
fields,  what  the  better  are  you  then  ?  You  can  but  travel 
back  again  to  your  own  land  with  a  cloud  of  unseen  men 
lurking  behind  you,  and  a  scalp -yell  for  every  straggler. 
You  are  a  soldier  yourself,  sire.  I  ask  you  if  such  a  war 
is  an  easy  task  for  a  handful  of  soldiers,  with  a  few  censi- 
taires  straight  from  the  plough,  and  a  troop  of  coureurs-de- 
bois  whose  hearts  all  the  time  are  with  their  traps  and  their 
beaver-skins." 

"  No,  no ;  I  am  sorry  if  I  spoke  too  hastily,"  said  Louis. 
"We  shall  look  into  the  matter  at  our  council." 

"  Then  it  warms  my  heart  to  hear  you  say  so,"  cried  the 
old  Governor.  "  There  will  be  joy  down  the  long  St. 
Lawrence,  in  white  hearts  and  in  red,  when  it  is  known 
that  their  great  father  over  the  waters  has  turned  his  mind 
towards  them." 

"  And  yet  you  must  not  look  for  too  much,  for  Canada 
has  been  a  heavy  cost  to  us,  and  we  have  many  calls  in 
Europe." 

"  Ah,  sire,  I  would  that  you  could  see  that  great  land. 
When  your  Majesty  has  won  a  campaign  over  here,  what 
may  come  of  it?  Glory,  a  few  miles  of  land,  Luxembourg, 
Strasburg,  one  more  city  in  the  kingdom ;  but  over  there, 
with  a  tenth  of  the  cost  and  a  hundredth  part  of  the  force, 
there  is  a  world  ready  to  your  hand.  It  is  so  vast,  sire,  so 
rich,  so  beautiful !  Where  are  there  such  hills,  such  forests, 
such  rivers!  And  it  is  all  for  us  if  we  will  but  take  it. 
Who  is  there  to  stand  in  our  way  ?  A  few  nations  of  scat- 
tered Indians  and  a  thin  strip  of  English  farmers  and  fish- 
ermen. Turn  your  thoughts  there,  sire,  and  in  a  few  years 
you  would  be  able  to  stand  upon  your  citadel  at  Quebec, 
and  to  say  there  is  one  great  empire  here  from  the  snows 
of  the  North  to  the  warm  Southern  gulf,  and  from  the 
waves  of  the  ocean  to  the  great  plains  beyond  Marquette's 

24 


river,  and  the  name  of  this  empire  is  France,  and  her  king 
is  Louis,  and  her  flag  is  the  fleurs-de-lis." 

Louis's  cheek  had  flushed  at  this  ambitious  picture,  and 
he  had  leaned  forward  in  his  chair,  with  flashing  eyes,  but 
he  sank  back  again  as  the  Governor  concluded. 

"  On  my  word,  Count,"  said  he,  "  you  have  caught  some- 
thing of  this  gift  of  Indian  eloquence  of  which  we  have 
heard.  But  about  these  English  folk.  They  are  Hugue- 
nots, are  they  not  ?" 

"  For  the  most  part.     Especially  in  the  North." 

"Then  it  might  be  a  service  to  Holy  Church  to  send 
them  packing.  They  have  a  city  there,  I  am  told.  New- 
New —  How  do  they  call  it  ?" 

"  New  York,  sire.     They  took  it  from  the  Dutch." 

"  Ah,  New  York.  And  have  I  not  heard  of  another  ? 
Bos— Bos— " 

"  Boston,  sire." 

"That  is  the  name.  The  harbors  might  be  of  service  to 
us.  Tell  me  now,  Frontenac,"  lowering  his  voice  so  that 
his  words  might  be  audible  only  to  the  Count,  Louvois,  and 
the  royal  circle,  "  what  force  would  you  need  to  clear  these 
people  out  ?  One  regiment,  two  regiments,  and  perhaps 
a  frigate  or  two  ?" 

But  the  ex-Governor  shook  his  grizzled  head.  "  You  do 
not  know  them,  sire,"  said  he.  "They  are  a  stern  folk, 
these.  We  in  Canada,  with  all  your  gracious  help,  have 
found  it  hard  to  hold  our  own.  Yet  these  men  have  had 
no  help,  but  only  hinderance,  with  cold  and  disease,  and 
barren  lands,  and  Indian  wars,  but  they  have  thriven  and 
multiplied  until  the  woods  thin  away  in  front  of  them  like 
ice  in  the  sun,  and  their  church  bells  are  heard  where  but 
yesterday  the  wolves  were  howling.  They  are  peaceful 
folk,  and  slow  to  war,  but  when  they  have  set  their  hands 
to  it,  though  they  may  be  slack  to  begin,  they  are  slacker 
still  to  cease.  To  put  New  England  into  your  Majesty's 
hands,  I  would  ask  fifteen  thousand  of  your  best  troops 
and  twenty  ships  of  the  line." 

Louis  sprang  impatiently  from  his  chair,  and  caught  up 
his  cane.  "  I  wish,"  said  he, ""  that  you  would  imitate  these 

25 


people  who  seem  to  you  to  be  so  formidable,  in  their  ex- 
cellent habit  of  doing  things  for  themselves.  The  matter 
may  stand  until  our  council.  Reverend  father,  it  has 
struck  the  hour  of  chapel,  and  all  else  may  wait  until  we 
have  paid  our  duties  to  Heaven."  Taking  a  missal  from 
the  hands  of  an  attendant,  he  walked  as  fast  as  his  very 
high  heels  would  permit  him  towards  the  door,  the  court 
forming  a  lane  through  which  he  might  pass,  and  then 
closing  up  behind  to  follow  him  in  order  of  precedence. 

26 


CHAPTER    III 
THE    HOLDING   OF   THE   DOOR 

WHILE  Louis  had  been  affording  his  court  that  which  he 
had  openly  stated  to  be  the  highest  of  human  pleasures — 
the  sight  of  the  royal  face — the  young  officer  of  the  guard 
outside  had  been  very  busy  passing  on  the  titles  of  the 
numerous  applicants  for  admission,  and  exchanging  usually 
a  smile  or  a  few  words  of  greeting  with  them,  for  his  frank 
handsome  face  was  a  well-known  one  at  the  court.  With 
his  merry  eyes  and  his  brisk  bearing,  he  looked  like  a  man 
who  was  on  good  terms  with  fortune.  Indeed,  he  had 
good  cause  to  be  so,  for  she  had  used  him  well.  Three 
years  ago  he  had  been  an  unknown  subaltern  bushfighting 
with  Algonquins  and  Iroquois  in  the  wilds  of  Canada. 
An  exchange  had  brought  him  back  to  France  and  into 
the  regiment  of  Picardy,  but  the  lucky  chance  of  having 
seized  the  bridle  of  the  King's  horse  one  winter's  day  in 
Fontainebleau  when  the  creature  was  plunging  within  a 
few  yards  of  a  deep  gravel-pit  had  done  for  him  what  ten 
campaigns  might  have  failed  to  accomplish.  Now  as  a 
trusted  officer  of  the  King's  guard,  young,  gallant,  and 
popular,  his  lot  was  indeed  an  enviable  one.  And  yet, 
with  the  strange  perversity  of  human  nature,  he  was  al- 
ready surfeited  with  the  dull  if  magnificent  routine  of  the 
King's  household,  and  looking  back  with  regret  to  the 
rougher  and  freer  days  of  his  early  service.  Even  there  at 
the  royal  door  his  mind  had  turned  away  from  the  frescoed 
passage  and  the  groups  of  courtiers  to  the  wild  ravines  and 
foaming  rivers  of  the  West,  when  suddenly  his  eyes  lit 
upon  a  face  which  he  had  last  seen  among  those  very 
scenes. 

27 


"  Ah,  Monsieur  de  Frontenac  !"  he  cried.  "  You  cannot 
have  forgotten  me." 

"What!  De  Catinat !  Ah,  it  is  joy  indeed  to  see  a 
face  from  over  the  water  !  But  there  is  a  long  step  between 
a  subaltern  in  the  Carignan  and  a  captain  in  the  Guards. 
You  have  risen  rapidly." 

"  Yes  ;  and  yet  I  may  be  none  the  happier  for  it.  There 
are  times  when  I  would  give  it  all  to  be  dancing  down  the 
Lachine  Rapids  in  a  birch  canoe,  or  to  see  the  red  and 
the  yellow  on  those  hill-sides  once  more  at  the  fall  of  the 
leaf." 

"  Ay,"  sighed  de  Frontenac.  "  You  know  that  my  fort- 
unes have  sunk  as  yours  have  risen.  I  have  been  recalled, 
and  de  la  Barre  is  in  my  place.  But  there  will  be  a 
storm  there  which  such  a  man  as  he  can  never  stand 
against.  With  the  Iroquois  all  dancing  the  scalp-dance, 
and  Dongan  behind  them  in  New  York  to  whoop  them  on, 
they  will  need  me,  and  they  will  find  me  waiting  when  they 
send.  I  will  see  the  King  now,  and  try  if  I  cannot  rouse 
him  to  play  the  great  monarch  there  as  well  as  here.  Had 
I  but  his  power  in  my  hands,  I  should  change  the  world's 
history." 

"  Hush  !  No  treason  to  the  captain  of  the  guard,"  cried 
de  Catinat,  laughing,  while  the  stern  old  soldier  strode 
past  him  into  the  King's  presence. 

A  gentleman  very  richly  dressed  in  black  and  silver  had 
come  up  during  this  short  conversation,  and  advanced,  as 
the  door  opened,  with  the  assured  air  of  a  man  whose 
rights  are  beyond  dispute.  Captain  de  Catinat,  however, 
took  a  quick  step  forward,  and  barred  him  off  from  the 
door. 

"  I  am  very  sorry,  Monsieur  de  Vivonne,"  said  he,  "  but 
you  are  forbidden  the  presence." 

"  Forbidden  the  presence  !  I  ?  You  are  mad !"  He 
stepped  back  with  gray  face  and  staring  eyes,  one  shaking 
hand  half  raised  in  protest. 

"  I  assure  you  that  it  is  his  order." 

"  But  it  is  incredible.     It  is  a  mistake." 

"  Very  possibly." 

28 


"  Then  you  will  let  me  past." 

"  My  orders  leave  me  no  discretion." 

"  If  I  could  have  one  word  with  the 

"  Unfortunately,  monsieur,  it  is  impossible." 

"Only  one  word." 

"  It  really  does  not  rest  with  me,  monsieur." 

The  angry  nobleman  stamped  his  foot,  and  stared  at  the 
door  as  though  he  had  some  thoughts  of  forcing  a  passage. 
Then,  turning  on  his  heel,  he  hastened  away  down  the 
corridor  with  the  air  of  a  man  who  has  come  to  a  decision. 

"There,  now,"  grumbled  de  Catinat  to  himself,  as  he 
pulled  his  thick  dark  mustache,  "  he  is  off  to  make  some 
fresh  mischief.  I'll  have  his  sister  here  presently,  as  like 
as  not,  and  a  pleasant  little  choice  between  breaking  my 
orders  and  making  an  enemy  of  her  for  life.  I'd  rather 
hold  Fort  Richelieu  against  the  Iroquois  than  the  King's 
door  against  an  angry  woman.  By  my  faith,  here  is  a  lady, 
as  I  feared.  Ah,  Heaven  be  praised  !  it  is  a  friend,  and  not 
a  foe.  Good-morning,  Mademoiselle  Nanon." 

"  Good-morning,  Captain  de  Catinat." 

The  new-comer  was  a  tall  graceful  brunette,  her  fresh 
face  and  sparkling  black  eyes  the  brighter  in  contrast  with 
her  plain  dress. 

"  I  am  on  guard,  you  see.     I  cannot  talk  with  you." 

"  I  cannot  remember  having  asked  monsieur  to  talk  with 
me." 

"  Ah,  but  you  must  not  pout  in  that  pretty  way,  or  else  I 
cannot  help  talking  to  you,"  whispered  the  Captain.  "  What 
is  this  in  your  hand,  then  ?" 

"  A  note  from  Madame  de  Maintenon  to  the  King.  You 
will  hand  it  to  him,  will  you  not  ?" 

"  Certainly,  mademoiselle.  And  how  is  madame,  your 
mistress  ?" 

"  Oh,  her  director  has  been  with  her  all  the  morning, 
and  his  talk  is  very,  very  good ;  but  it  is  also  very,  very 
sad.  We  are  not  very  cheerful  when  Monsieur  Godet  has 
been  to  see  us.  But  I  forget  monsieur  is  a  Huguenot, 
and  knows  nothing  of  directors." 

"  Oh,  but  I  do  not  trouble  about  such  differences.  I  let 
c  29 


the  Sorbonne  and  Geneva  fight  it  out  between  them.  Yet 
a  man  must  stand  by  his  family,  you  know." 

"  Ah  !  if  monsieur  could  talk  to  Madame  de  Maintenon 
a  little  !  She  would  convert  him." 

"  I  would  rather  talk  to  Mademoiselle  Nanon,  but  if — " 

"Oh!"  There  was  an  exclamation,  a  whisk  of  dark 
skirts,  and  the  soubrette  had  disappeared  down  a  side 
passage. 

Along  the  broad  lighted  corridor  was  gliding  a  very 
stately  and  beautiful  lady,  tall,  graceful,  and  exceedingly 
haughty.  She  was  richly  clad  in  a  bodice  of  gold-colored 
camlet  and  a  skirt  of  gray  silk  trimmed  with  gold  and  silver 
lace.  A  handkerchief  of  priceless  Genoa  point  half  hid 
and  half  revealed  her  beautiful  throat,  and  was  fastened  in 
front  by  a  cluster  of  pearls,  while  a  rope  of  the  same,  each 
one  worth  a  bourgeois'  income,  was  coiled  in  and  out 
through  her  luxuriant  hair.  The  lady  was  past  her  first 
youth,  it  is  true,  but  the  magnificent  curves  of  her  queenly 
figure,  the  purity  of  her  complexion,  the  brightness  of  her 
deep-lashed  blue  eyes,  and  the  clear  regularity  of  her 
features  enabled  her  still  to  claim  to  be  the  most  handsome 
as  well  as  the  most  sharp-tongued  woman  in  the  court  of 
France.  So  beautiful  was  her  bearing,  the  carriage  of  her 
dainty  head  upon  her  proud  white  neck,  and  the  sweep  of 
her  stately  walk,  that  the  young  officer's  fears  were  over- 
powered in  his  admiration,  and  he  found  it  hard,  as  he 
raised  his  hand  in  salute,  to  retain  the  firm  countenance 
which  his  duties  demanded. 

"Ah,  it  is  Captain  de  Catinat,"  said  Madame  de  Montes- 
pan,  with  a  smile  which  was  more  embarrassing  to  him  than 
any  frown  could  have  been. 

"  Your  humble  servant,  Marquise." 

"  I  am  fortunate  in  finding  a  friend  here,  for  there  has 
been  some  ridiculous  mistake  this  morning." 

"  I  am  concerned  to  hear  it." 

"  It  was  about  my  brother,  Monsieur  de  Vivonne.  It  is 
almost  too  laughable  to  mention,  but  he  was  actually  re- 
fused admission  to  the  lever."" 

"  It  was  my  misfortune  to  have  to  refuse  him,  madame." 

30 


"  You,  Captain  de  Catinat  ?  And  by  what  right  ?"  She 
had  drawn  up  her  superb  figure,  and  her  Jarge  blue  eyes 
were  blazing  with  indignant  astonishment. 

"The  King's  order,  madame." 

"  The  King !  Is  it  likely  that  the  King  would  cast  a 
public  slight  upon  my  family  ?  From  whom  had  you  this 
preposterous  order  ?" 

"  Direct  from  the  King  through  Bontems." 

"  Absurd  !  Do  you  think  that  the  King  would  venture 
to  exclude  a  Mortemart  through  the  mouth  of  a  valet  ? 
You  have  been  dreaming,  Captain." 

"  I  trust  that  it  may  prove  so,  madame." 

"  But  such  dreams  are  not  very  fortunate  to  the  dreamer. 
Go,  tell  the  King  that  I  am  here,  and  would  have  a  word 
with  him." 

"Impossible,  madame." 

"  And  why  ?" 

"  I  have  been  forbidden  to  carry  a  message." 

"  To  carry  any  message  ?" 

"  Any  from  you,  madame." 

"  Come,  Captain,  you  improve.  It  only  needed  this  insult 
to  make  the  thing  complete.  You  may  carry  a  message 
to  the  King  from  any  adventuress,  from  any  decayed 
governess  '^— she  laughed  shrilly  at  her  description  of  her 
rival— "but  none  from  Franchise  de  Mortemart,  Marquise 
de  Montespan." 

"  Such  are  my  orders,  madame.  It  pains  me  deeply  to 
be  compelled  to  carry  them  out." 

"  You  may  spare  your  protestations,  Captain.  You  may 
yet  find  that  you  have  every  reason  to  be  deeply  pained. 
For  the  last  time,  do  you  refuse  to  carry  my  message  to  the 
King  ?" 

"  I  must,  madame." 

"  Then  I  carry  it  myself." 

She  sprang  forward  at  the  door,  but  he  slipped  in  front 
of  her  with  out-stretched  arms. 

"  For  God's  sake,  consider  yourself,  madame !"  he  en- 
treated. "  Other  eyes  are  upon  you." 

"  Pah  !     Canaille  !"     She  glanced  at  the  knot  of  Swit- 


zers,  whose  sergeant  had  drawn  them  off  a  few  paces,  and 
who  stood  open-eyed,  staring  at  the  scene.  "  I  tell  you 
that  I  a//// see  the  King." 

" No  lady  has  ever  been  at  the  morning  lever" 

"  Then  I  shall  be  the  first." 

"  You  will  ruin  me  if  you  pass." 

"  And  none  the  less,  I  shall  do  so." 

The  matter  looked  serious.  De  Catinat  was  a  man  of 
resource,  but  for  once  he  was  at  his  wits'  end.  Madame  de 
Montespan's  resolution,  as  it  was  called  in  her  presence,  or 
effrontery,  as  it  was  termed  behind  her  back,  was  prover- 
bial. If  she  attempted  to  force  her  way,  would  he  venture 
to  use  violence  upon  one  who  only  yesterday  held  the  fort- 
unes of  the  whole  court  in  the  hollow  of  her  hand,  and 
who,  with  her  beauty,  her  wit,  and  her  energy,  might  very 
well  be  in  the  same  position  to-morrow  ?  If  she  passed 
him,  then  his  future  was  ruined  with  the  King,  who  never 
brooked  the  smallest  deviation  from  his  orders.  On  the 
other  hand,  if  he  thrust  her  back,  he  did  that  which  could 
never  be  forgiven,  and  which  would  entail  some  deadly 
vengeance  should  she  return  to  power.  It  was  an  unpleas- 
ant dilemma.  But  a  happy  thought  flashed  into  his  mind 
at  the  very  moment  when  she,  with  clinched  hand  and 
flashing  eyes,  was  on  the  point  of  making  a  fresh  attempt 
to  pass  him. 

"  If  madame  would  deign  to  wait,"  said  he,  soothingly, 
"the  King  will  be  on  his  way  to  the  chapel  in  an  instant." 

"  It  is  not  yet  time." 

"  I  think  the  hour  has  just  gone." 

"  And  why  should  I  wait  like  a  lackey  ?" 

"It  is  but  a  moment,  madame." 

"  No,  I  shall  not  wait."  She  took  a  step  forward  towards 
the  door. 

But  the  guardsman's  quick  ear  had  caught  the  sound  of 
moving  feet  from  within,  and  he  knew  that  he  was  mas- 
ter of  the  situation.  "I  will  take  madame's  message," 
said  he. 

"  Ah,  you  have  recovered  your  senses  !  Go,  tell  the  King 
that  I  wish  to  speak  with  him." 

32 


He  must  gain  a  little  time  yet.  "  Shall  I  say  it  through 
the  lord  in  waiting  ?"  ^ 

"  No ;  yourself." 

"  Publicly  ?" 

"  No,  no  ;  for  his  private  ear." 

"  Shall  I  give  a  reason  for  your  request  ?" 

"  Oh,  you  madden  me  !  Say  what  I  have  told  you,  and 
at  once." 

But  the  young  officer's  dilemma  was  happily  over.  At 
that  instant  the  double  doors  were  swung  open,  and  Louis 
appeared  in  the  opening,  strutting  forward  on  his  high- 
heeled  shoes,  his  stick  tapping,  his  broad  skirts  flapping,  and 
his  courtiers  spreading  out  behind  him.  He  stopped  as  he 
came  out,  and  turned  to  the  captain  of  the  guard. 

"  You  have  a  note  for  me  ?" 

"  Yes,  sire." 

The  monarch  slipped  it  into  the  pocket  of  his  scarlet  un- 
der-vest,  and  was  advancing  once  more  when  his  eyes  fell 
upon  Madame  de  Montespan  standing  very  stiff  and  erect 
in  the  middle  of  the  passage.  A  dark  flush  of  anger  shot 
to  his  brow,  and  he  walked  swiftly  past  her  without  a  word  ; 
but  she  turned  and  kept  pace  with  him  down  the  corridor. 

"  I  had  not  expected  this  honor,  madame,"  said  he. 

"  Nor  had  I  expected  this  insult,  sire." 

"An  insult,  madame  ?     You  forget  yourself." 

"  No  ;  it  is  you  who  have  forgotten  me,  sire." 

"  You  intrude  upon  me." 

"  I  wished  to  hear  my  fate  from  your  own  lips,"  she  whis- 
pered. "  I  can  bear  to  be  struck  myself,  sire,  even  by  him 
who  has  my  heart.  But  it  is  hard  to  hear  that  one's  broth- 
er has  been  wounded  through  the  mouths  of  valets  and  Hu- 
guenot soldiers  for  no  fault  of  his,  save  that  his  sister  has 
loved  too  fondly." 

"  It  is  no  time  to  speak  of  such  things." 

"  When  can  I  see  you,  then,  sire  ?" 

"  In  your  chamber." 

"  At  what  hour  ?" 

"At  four." 

"  Then  I  shall  trouble  your  Majesty  no  further." 
33 


She  swept  him  one  of  the  graceful  courtesies  for  which 
she  was  famous,  and  turned  away  down  a  side  passage  with 
triumph  shining  in  her  eyes.  Her  beauty  and  her  spirit 
had  never  failed  her  yet,  and  now  that  she  had  the  mon- 
arch's promise  of  an  interview,  she  never  doubted  that  she 
could  do  as  she  had  done  before,  and  win  back  the  heart 
of  the  man,  however  much  against  the  conscience  of  the 
King. 


CHAPTER   IV 
THE   FATHER   OF  HIS    PEOPLE 

Louis  had  walked  on  to  his  devotions  in  no  very  char- 
itable frame  of  mind,  as  was  easily  to  be  seen  from  his 
clouded  brow  and  compressed  lips.  He  knew  his  late  fa- 
vorite well,  her  impulsiveness,  her  audacity,  her  lack  of  all 
restraint  when  thwarted  or  opposed.  She  was  capable  of 
making  a  hideous  scandal,  of  turning  against  him  that  bit- 
ter tongue  which  had  so  often  made  him  laugh  at  the 
expense  of  others,  perhaps  even  of  making  some  public 
exposure  which  would  leave  him  the  butt  and  gossip  of 
Europe.  He  shuddered  at  the  thought.  At  all  costs  such 
a  catastrophe  must  be  averted.  And  yet  how  could  he  cut 
the  tie  which  bound  them?  He  had  broken  other  such 
bonds  as  these  ;  but  the  gentle  La  Valliere  had  shrunk  into 
a  convent  at  the  very  first  glance  which  had  told  her  of 
waning  love.  That  was  true  affection.  But  this  woman 
would  struggle  hard,  fight  to  the  bitter  end,  before  she 
would  quit  the  position  which  was  so  dear  to  her.  She 
spoke  of  her  wrongs.  What  were  her  wrongs  ?  In  his  in- 
tense selfishness,  nurtured  by  the  eternal  flattery  which  was 
the  very  air  he  breathed,  he  could  not  see  that  the  fifteen 
years  of  her  life  which  he  had  absorbed,  or  the  loss  of  the 
husband  whom  he  had  supplanted,  gave  her  any  claim  upon 
him.  In  his  view  he  had  raised  her  to  the  highest  position 
which  a  subject  could  occupy.  Now  he  was  weary  of  her, 
and  it  was  her  duty  to  retire  with  resignation,  nay,  even 
with  gratitude  for  past  favors.  She  should  have  a  pension, 
and  the  children  should  be  cared  for.  What  could  a  rea- 
sonable woman  ask  for  more  ? 

And  then  his  motives  for  discarding  her  were  so  excel- 

35 


lent.  He  turned  them  over  in  his  mind  as  he  knelt  listen- 
ing to  the  Archbishop  of  Paris  reciting  the  mass,  and  the 
more  he  thought,  the  more  he  approved.  His  conception  of 
the  deity  was  as  a  larger  Louis,  and  of  heaven  as  a  more 
gorgeous  Versailles.  If  he  exacted  obedience  from  his  twen- 
ty millions,  then  he  must  show  it  also  to  this  one  who  had 
a  right  to  demand  it  of  him.  On  the  whole,  his  conscience 
acquitted  him.  But  in  this  one  matter  he  had  been  lax. 
From  the  first  coming  of  his  gentle  and  forgiving  young 
wife  from  Spain,  he  had  never  once  permitted  her  to  be 
without  a  rival.  Now  that  she  was  dead,  the  matter  was 
no  better.  One  favorite  had  succeeded  another,  and  if  de 
Montespan  had  held  her  own  so  long,  it  was  rather  from 
her  audacity  than  from  his  affection.  But  now  Father  La 
Chaise  and  Bossuet  were  ever  reminding  him  that  he  had 
topped  the  summit  of  his  life,  and  was  already  upon  that 
downward  path  which  leads  to  the  grave.  His  wild  out- 
burst over  the  unhappy  Fontanges  had  represented  the  last 
flicker  of  his  passions.  The  time  had  come  for  gravity  and 
for  calm,  neither  of  which  was  to  be  expected  in  the  com- 
pany of  Madame  de  Montespan. 

But  he  had  found  out  where  they  were  to  be  enjoyed. 
From  the  day  when  de  Montespan  had  introduced  the 
stately  and  silent  widow  as  a  governess  for  his  children,  he 
had  found  a  never-failing  and  ever-increasing  pleasure  in 
her  society.  In  the  early  days  of  her  coming  he  had  sat 
for  hours  in  the  rooms  of  his  favorite,  watching  the  tact 
and  sweetness  of  temper  with  which  her  dependent  con- 
trolled the  mutinous  spirits  of  the  petulant  young  Due  du 
Maine  and  the  mischievous  little  Comte  de  Toulouse.  He 
had  been  there  nominally  for  the  purpose  of  superintending 
the  teaching,  but  he  had  confined  himself  to  admiring  the 
teacher.  And  then  in  time  he  too  had  been  drawn  into 
the  attraction  of  that  strong  sweet  nature,  and  had  found 
himself  consulting  her  upon  points  of  conduct,  and  acting 
upon  her  advice  with  a  docility  which  he  had  never  shown 
before  to  minister  or  mistress.  For  a  time  he  had  thought 
that  her  piety  and  her  talk  of  principle  might  be  a  mere 
mask,  for  he  was  accustomed  to  hypocrisy  all  round  him. 

36 


It  was  surely  unlikely  that  a  woman  who  was  still  beauti- 
ful, with  as  bright  an  eye  and  as  graceful  a,  figure  as  any 
in  his  court,  could,  after  a  life  spent  in  the  gayest  circles, 
preserve  the  spirit  of  a  nun.  But  on  this  point  he  was  soon 
undeceived,  for  when  his  own  language  had  become  warm- 
er than  that  of  friendship,  he  had  been  met  by  an  iciness 
of  manner  and  a  brevity  of  speech  which  had  shown  him 
that  there  was  one  woman  at  least  in  his  dominions  who 
had  a  higher  respect  for  herself  than  for  him.  And  perhaps 
it  was  better  so.  The  placid  pleasures  of  friendship  were 
very  soothing  after  the  storms  of  passion.  To  sit  in  her 
room  every  afternoon,  to  listen  to  talk  which  was  not  taint- 
ed with  flattery,  and  to  hear  opinions  which  were  not  framed 
to  please  his  ear,  were  the  occupations  now  of  his  happiest 
hours.  And  then  her  influence  over  him  was  all  so  good ! 
She  spoke  of  his  kingly  duties,  of  his  example  to  his  sub- 
jects, of  his  preparation  for  the  world  beyond,  and  of  the 
need  for  an  effort  to  snap  the  guilty  ties  which  he  had 
formed.  She  was  as  good  as  a  confessor — a  confessor  with 
a  lovely  face  and  a  perfect  arm. 

And  now  he  knew  that  the  time  had  come  when  he  must 
choose  between  her  and  de  Montespan.  Their  influences 
were  antagonistic.  They  could  not  continue  together. 
He  stood  between  virtue  and  vice,  and  he  must  choose. 
Vice  was  very  attractive  too,  very  comely,  very  witty,  and 
holding  him  by  that  chain  of  custom  which  is  so  hard  to 
shake  off.  There  were  hours  when  his  nature  swayed 
strongly ,  over  to  that  side,  and  when  he  was  tempted  to 
fall  back  into  his  old  life.  But  Bossuet  and  Pere  La 
Chaise  were  ever  at  his  elbows  to  whisper  encouragement, 
and,  above  all,  there  was  Madame  de  Maintenon  to  remind 
him  of  what  was  due  to  his  position  and  to  his  six-and- 
forty  years.  Now  at  last  he  had  braced  himself  for  a 
supreme  effort.  There  was  no  safety  for  him  while  his  old 
favorite  was  at  court.  He  knew  himself  too  well  to  have 
any  faith  in  a  lasting  change  so  long  as  she  was  there  ever 
waiting  for  his  moment  of  weakness.  She  must  be  per- 
suaded to  leave  Versailles,  if  without  a  scandal  it  could  be 
done.  He  would  be  firm  when  he  met  her  in  the  after- 

37 


noon,  and  make  her  understand  once  for  all  that  her  reign 
was  forever  over. 

Such  were  the  thoughts  which  ran  through  the  King's 
head  as  he  bent  over  the  rich  crimson  cushion  which 
topped  his  prie-dieu  of  carved  oak.  He  knelt  in  his  own 
enclosure  to  the  right  of  the  altar,  with  his  guards  and  his 
immediate  household  around  him,  while  the  court,  ladies 
and  cavaliers,  filled  the  chapel.  Piety  was  a  fashion  now, 
like  dark  overcoats  and  lace  cravats,  and  no  courtier  was 
so  worldly-minded  as  not  to  have  had  a  touch  of  grace 
since  the  King  had  taken  to  religion.  Yet  they  looked 
very  bored,  these  soldiers  and  seigneurs,  yawning  and 
blinking  over  the  missals,  while  some  who  seemed  more 
intent  upon  their  devotions  were  really  dipping  into  the 
latest  romance  of  Scudery  or  Calpernedi,  cunningly  bound 
up  in  a  sombre  cover.  The  ladies,  indeed,  were  more  de- 
vout, and  were  determined  that  all  should  see  it,  for  each 
had  lit  a  tiny  taper,  which  she  held  in  front  of  her  on  the 
plea  of  lighting  up  her  missal,  but  really  that  her  face  might 
be  visible  to  the  King,  and  inform  him  that  hers  was  a 
kindred  spirit.  A  few  there  may  have  been,  here  and 
there,  whose  prayers  rose  from  their  hearts,  and  who  were 
there  of  their  own  free  will ;  but  the  policy  of  Louis  had 
changed  his  noblemen  into  courtiers  and  his  men  of  the 
world  into  hypocrites,  until  the  whole  court  was  like  one 
gigantic  mirror  which  reflected  his  own  likeness  a  hundred- 
fold. 

It  was  the  habit  of  Louis,  as  he  walked  back  from  the 
•  chapel,  to  receive  petitions  or  to  listen  to  any  tales  of 
wrong  which  his  subjects  might  bring  to  him.  His  way,  as 
he  returned  to  his  rooms,  lay  partly  across  an  open  space, 
and  here  it  was  that  the  suppliants  were  wont  to  assemble. 
On  this  particular  morning  there  were  but  two  or  three — a 
Parisian,  who  conceived  himself  injured  by  the  provost  of 
his  guild,  a  peasant  whose  cow  had  been  torn  by  a  hunts- 
man's dog,  and  a  farmer  who  had  had  hard  usage  from  his 
feudal  lord.  A  few  questions,  and  then  a  hurried  order  to 
his  secretary  disposed  of  each  case,  for  if  Louis  was  a 
tyrant  himself,  he  had  at  least  the  merit  that  he  insisted 

38 


upon  being  the  only  one  within  his  kingdom.  He  was 
about  to  resume  his  way  again,  when  an  elderly  man,  clad 
in  the  garb  of  a  respectable  citizen,  and  with  a  strong  deep- 
lined  face  which  marked  him  as  a  man  of  character,  darted 
forward,  and  threw  himself  down  upon  one  knee  in  front  of 
the  monarch. 

"  Justice,  sire,  justice  !"  he  cried. 

"What  is  this,  then  ?"  asked  Louis.  "Who  are  you  and 
what  is  it  that  you  want  ?" 

"  I  am  a  citizen  of  Paris,  and  I  have  been  cruelly 
wronged." 

"  You  seem  a  very  worthy  person.  If  you  have  indeed 
been  wronged  you  shall  have  redress.  What  have  you  to 
complain  of  ?" 

"  Twenty  of  the  Blue  Dragoons  of  Languedoc  are  quar- 
tered in  my  house,  with  Captain  Dalbert  at  their  head. 
They  have  devoured  my  food,  stolen  my  property,  and 
beaten  my  servants,  yet  the  magistrates  will  give  me  no 
redress." 

"  On  my  life,  justice  seems  to  be  administered  in  a 
strange  fashion  in  our  city  of  Paris !"  exclaimed  the  King, 
wrathfully. 

"  It  is  indeed  a  shameful  case,"  said  Bossuet. 

"  And  yet  there  may  be  a  very  good  reason  for  it,"  sug- 
gested Pere  La  Chaise.  "  I  would  suggest  that  your 
Majesty  should  ask  this  man  his  name,  his  business,  and 
why  it  was  that  the  dragoons  were  quartered  upon  him." 

"You  hear  the  reverend  father's  question." 

"  My  name,  sire,  is  Catinat,  by  trade  I  am  a  merchant  in 
cloth,  and  I  am  treated  in  this  fashion  because  I  am  of  the 
Reformed  Church." 

"  I  thought  as  much  !"  cried  the  confessor. 

"  That  alters  matters,"  said  Bossuet. 

The  King  shook  his  head  and  his  brow  darkened.  "You 
have  only  yourself  to  thank,  then.  The  remedy  is  in  youl 
hands." 

"  And  how,  sire  ?" 

"  By  embracing  the  only  true  faith." 

"  I  am  already  a  member  of  it,  sire." 

39    ,. 


The  King  stamped  his  foot  angrily.  "I  can  see  that 
you  are  a  very  insolent  heretic,"  said  he.  "  There  is  but 
one  Church  in  France,  and  that  is  my  Church.  If  you  are 
outside  that,  you  cannot  look  to  me  for  aid." 

"  My  creed  is  that  of  my  father,  sire,  and  of  my  grand- 
father." 

"  If  they  have  sinned  it  is  no  reason  why  you  should. 
My  own  grandfather  erred  also  before  his  eyes  were 
opened." 

"But  he  nobly  atoned  for  his  error,"  murmured  the  Jesuit. 

"  Then  you  will  not  help  me,  sire  ?" 

"You  must  first  help  yourself." 

The  old  Huguenot  stood  up  with  a  gesture  of  despair, 
while  the  King  continued  on  his  way,  the  two  ecclesiastics, 
on  either  side  of  him,  murmuring  their  approval  into  his 
ears. 

"  You  have  done  nobly,  sire." 

"  You  are  truly  the  first  son  of  the  Church." 

"  You  are  the  worthy  successor  of  St.  Louis." 

But  the  King  bore  the  face  of  a  man  who  was  not  abso- 
lutely satisfied  with  his  own  action. 

"  You  do  not  think,  then,  that  these  people  have  too 
hard  a  measure  ?"  said  he. 

"  Too  hard  ?  Nay,  your  Majesty  errs  on  the  side  of 
mercy." 

"I  hear  that  they  are  leaving  my  kingdom  in  great 
numbers." 

"  And  surely  it  is  better  so,  sire ;  for  what  blessing  can 
come  upon  a  country  which  has  such  stubborn  infidels 
within  its  boundaries  ?" 

"Those  who  are  traitors  to  God  can  scarce  be  loyal  to 
the  King,"  remarked  Bossuet.  "Your  Majesty's  power 
would  be  greater  if  there  were  no  temple,  as  they  call  their 
dens  of  heresy,  within  your  dominions." 

"  My  grandfather  has  promised  them  protection.  They 
are  shielded,  as  you  well  know,  by  the  edict  which  he  gave 
at  Nantes." 

"  But  it  lies  with  your  Majesty  to  undo  the  mischief  that 
has  been  done." 

40 


"  And  how  ?" 

"  By  recalling  the  edict." 

"And  driving  into  the 
open  arms  of  my  enemies 
two  millions  of  my  best 
artisans  and  of  my  bravest 
servants.  No,  no,  father, 
I  have,  I  trust,  every  zeal 
for  Mother  -  church,  but 
there  is  some  truth  in 
what  Comte  de  Frontenac 
said  this  morning  of  the 
evil  which  comes  from 
mixing  the  affairs  of  this 
world  with  those  of  the 
next.  How  say  you, 
Louvois  ?" 

"With  all  respect  to 
the  Church,  sire,  I  would 
say  that  the  devil  has 
given  these  men  such  cun- 
ning of  hand  and  of  brain 
that  they  are  the  best 
workers  and  traders  in 
your  Majesty's  kingdom. 
I  know  not  how  the  state 
coffers  are  to  be  filled  if 
such  tax-payers  go  from 
among  us.  Already  many 
have  left  the  country  and 
taken  their  trades  with 
them.  If  all  were  to  go, 
it  would  be  worse  for  us 
than  a  lost  campaign." 

"But,"  remarked  Bossuet,  "if  it  were  once  known  that 
the  King's  will  had  been  expressed,  your  Majesty  may 
rest  assured  that  even  the  worst  of  his  subjects  bear  him 
such  love  that  they  would  hasten  to  come  within  the  pale  of 
Holy  Church.  As  long  as  the  edict  stands,  it  seems  to 

41 


THE   OLD   HUGUENOT    STOOD    UP   WITH 
A   GESTURE   OF   DESPAIR " 


them  that  the  King  is  lukewarm,  and  that  they  may  abide 
in  their  error." 

The  King  shook  his  head.  "They  have  always  been 
stubborn  folk,"  said  he. 

"  Perhaps,"  remarked  Louvois,  glancing  maliciously  at 
Bossuet,  "  were  the  bishops  of  France  to  make  an  offering 
to  the  state  of  the  treasures  of  their  sees,  we  might  then  do 
without  these  Huguenot  taxes." 

"  All  that  the  Church  has  is  at  the  King's  service,"  an- 
swered Bossuet,  curtly. 

"  The  kingdom  is  mine,  and  all  that  is  in  it,"  remarked 
Louis,  as  they  entered  the  Grand  Salon  in  which  the  court 
assembled  after  chapel,  "  yet  I  trust  that  it  may  be  long 
before  I  have  to  claim  the  wealth  of  the  Church." 

"We  trust  so,  sire,"  echoed  the  ecclesiastics. 

"  But  we  may  reserve  such  topics  for  our  council- 
chamber.  Where  is  Mansard  ?  I  must  see  his  plans  for 
the  new  wing  at  Marly."  He  crossed  to  a  side  table,  and 
was  buried  in  an  instant  in  his  favorite  pursuit,  inspecting 
the  gigantic  plans  of  the  great  architect,  and  inquiring 
eagerly  as  to  the  progress  of  the  work. 

"  I  think,"  said  Pere  La  Chaise,  drawing  Bossuet  aside, 
"  that  your  Grace  has  made  some  impression  upon  the 
King's  mind." 

"  With  your  powerful  assistance,  father." 

"  Oh,  you  may  rest  assured  that  I  shall  lose  no  opportu- 
nity of  pushing  on  the  good  work." 

"  If  you  take  it  in  hand,  it  is  done." 

"  But  there  is  another  who  has  more  weight  than  I." 

"  The  favorite,  de  Montespan  ?" 

"  No,  no  ;  her  day  is  gone.    It  is  Madame  de  Maintenon." 

"  I  hear  that  she  is  very  devout." 

"  Very.  But  she  has  no  love  for  my  order.  She  is  a 
Sulpitian.  Yet  we  may  all  work  to  one  end.  Now  if  you 
were  to  speak  to  her,  your  Grace." 

"  With  all  my  heart." 

"  Show  her  how  good  a  service  it  would  be  could  she 
bring  about  the  banishment  of  the  Huguenots." 

"  I  shall  do  so." 

42 


"And  offer  her  in  return  that  we  will  promote — "  he  bent 
forward  and  whispered  into  the  prelate's  ear.  t 

"  What !     He  would  not  do  it !" 

"And, why  ?     The  Queen  is  dead." 

"  The  widow  of  the  poet  Scarron  !" 

"  She  is  of  good  birth.  Her  grandfather  and  his  were 
dear  friends." 

"  It  is  impossible  !" 

"  But  I  know  his  heart,  and  I  say  it  is  possible." 

"  You  certainly  know  his  heart,  father,  if  any  can.  But 
such  a  thought  had  never  entered  my  head." 

"  Then  let  it  enter  and  remain  there.  If  she  will  serve 
the  Church,  the  Church  will  serve  her.  But  the  King  beck- 
ons, and  I  must  go." 

The  thin  dark  figure  hastened  off  through  the  throng  of 
courtiers,  and  the  great  Bishop  of  Meaux  remained  stand- 
ing with  his  chin  upon  his  breast,  sunk  in  reflection. 

By  this  time  all  the  court  was  assembled  in  the  Grand 
Salon,  and  the  huge  room  was  gay  from  end  to  end  with  the 
silks,  the  velvets,  and  the  brocades  of  the  ladies,  the  glitter 
of  jewels,  the  flirt  of  painted  fans,  and  the  sweep  of  plume 
or  aigrette.  The  grays,  blacks,  and  browns  of  the  men's 
coats  toned  down  the  mass  of  color,  for  all  must  be  dark 
when  the  King  was  dark,  and  only  the  blues  of  the  officer's 
uniforms,  and  the  pearl  and  gray  of  the  musketeers  of  the 
guard,  remained  to  call  back  those  early  days  of  the  reign 
when  the  men  had  vied  with  the  women  in  the  costliness 
and  brilliancy  of  their  wardrobes.  And  if  dresses  had 
changed,  manners  had  done  so  even  more.  The  old  levity 
and  the  old  passions  lay  doubtless  very  near  the  surface, 
but  grave  faces  and  serious  talk  were  the  fashion  of  the 
hour.  It  was  no  longer  the  lucky  coup  at  the  lansquenet 
table,  the  last  comedy  of  Moliere,  or  the  new  opera  of  Lully 
about  which  they  gossiped,  but  it  was  on  the  evils  of  Jan- 
senism, or  the  expulsion  of  Arnauld  from  the  Sorbonne,  on 
the  insolence  of  Pascal,  or  on  the  comparative  merits  of  two 
such  popular  preachers  as  Bourdaloue  and  Massillon.  So, 
under  a  radiant  ceiling  and  over  a  many-colored  floor,  sur- 
rounded by  immortal  paintings,  set  thickly  in  gold  and  or- 

43 


nament,  there  moved  these  nobles  and  ladies  of  France,  all 
moulding  themselves  upon  the  one  little  dark  figure  in  their 
midst,  who  was  himself  so  far  from  being  his  own  master 
that  he  hung  balanced  even  now  between  two  rival  women, 
who  were  playing  a  game  in  which  the  future  of  France  and 
his  own  destiny  were  the  stakes. 


CHAPTER    V 
CHILDREN    OF    BELIAL 

THE  elderly  Huguenot  had  stood  silent  after  his  repulse 
by  the  King,  with  his  eyes  cast  moodily  downward,  and  a 
face  in  which  doubt,  sorrow,  and  anger  contended  for  the 
mastery.  He  was  a  very  large,  gaunt  man,  rawboned  and 
haggard,  with  a  wide  forehead,  a  large  fleshy  nose,  and  a 
powerful  chin.  He  wore  neither  wig  nor  powder,  but  Nat- 
ure had  put  her  own  silvering  upon  his  thick  grizzled  locks, 
and  the  thousand  puckers  which  clustered  round  the  edges 
of  his  eyes,  or  drew  at  the  corners  of  his  mouth,  gave  a  set 
gravity  to  his  face  which  needed  no  device  of  the  barber  to 
increase  it.  Yet,  in  spite  of  his  mature  years,  the  swift 
anger  with  which  he  had  sprung  up  when  the  King  refused 
his  plaint,  and  the  keen  fiery  glance  which  he  had  shot  at 
the  royal  court  as  they  filed  past  him  with  many  a  scornful 
smile  and  whispered  gibe  at  his  expense,  all  showed  that 
he  had  still  preserved  something  of  the  strength  and  of  the 
spirit  of  his  youth.  He  was  dressed  as  became  his  rank, 
plainly  and  yet  well,  in  a  sad-colored  brown  kersey  coat 
with  silver-plated  buttons,  knee-breeches  of  the  same,  and 
white  woollen  stockings,  ending  in  broad-toed  black  leather 
shoes  cut  across  with  a  great  steel  buckle.  In  one  hand  he 
carried  his  low  felt  hat,  trimmed  with  gold  edging,  and  in 
the  other  a  little  cylinder  of  paper  containing  a  recital  of 
his  wrongs,  which  he  had  hoped  to  leave  in  the  hands  of 
the  King's  secretary. 

His  doubts  as  to  what  his  next  step  should  be  were  soon 

resolved  for  him  in  a  very  summary  fashion.     These  were 

days  when,  if  the  Huguenot  was  not  absolutely  forbidden 

in  France,  he  was  at  least  looked  upon  as  a  man  who  ex- 

D  45 


isted  upon  sufferance,  and  who  was  unshielded  by  the  laws 
which  protected  his  Catholic  fellow -subjects.  For  twenty 
years  the  stringency  of  the  persecution  had  increased  until 
there  was  no  weapon  which  bigotry  could  employ,  short  of; 
absolute  expulsion,  which  had  not  been  turned  against  him. 
He  was  impeded  in  his  business,  elbowed  out  of  all  public 
employment,  his  house  filled  with  troops,  his  children  en- 
couraged to  rebel  against  him,  and  all  redress  refused  him 
for  the  insults  and  assaults  to  which  he  was  subjected. 
Every  rascal  who  wished  to  gratify  his  personal  spite,  or  to 
gain  favor  with  his  bigoted  superiors,  might  do  his  worst 
upon  him  without  fear  of  the  law.  Yet,  in  spite  of  all,  these 
men  clung  to  the  land  which  disowned  them,  and,  full  of 
the  love  for  their  native  soil  which  lies  so  deep  in  a  French- 
man's heart,  preferred  insult  and  contumely  at  home  to  the 
welcome  which  would  await  them  beyond  the  seas.  Al- 
ready, however,  the  shadow  of  those  days  was  falling  upon 
them  when  the  choice  should  no  longer  be  theirs. 

Two  of  the  King's  big  blue-coated  guardsmen  were  on 
duty  at  that  side  of  the  palace,  and  had  been  witnesses  to 
his  unsuccessful  appeal.  Now  they  tramped  across  to- 
gether to  where  he  was  standing,  and  broke  brutally  into 
the  current  of  his  thoughts. 

"Now,  Hymn-books,"  said  one,  gruffly,  "get  off  again 
about  your  business." 

"  You're  not  a  very  pretty  ornament  to  the  King's  path- 
way," cried  the  other,  with  a  hideous  oath.  "  Who  are  you, 
to  turn  up  your  nose  at  the  King's  religion,  curse  you  ?" 

The  old  Huguenot  shot  a  glance  of  anger  and  contempt 
at  them,  and  was  turning  to  go,  when  one  of  them  thrust  at 
his  ribs  with  the  butt  end  of  his  halberd. 

"  Take  that,  you  dog  !"  he  cried.  "  Would  you  dare  to 
look  like  that  at  the  King's  guard  ?" 

"  Children  of  Belial,"  cried  the  old  man,  with  his  hand 
pressed  to  his  side,  "  were  I  twenty  years  younger  you 
would  not  have  dared  to  use  me  so." 

"  Ha  !  you  would  still  spit  your  venom,  would  you  ?  That 
is  enough,  Andre!  He  has  threatened -the  King's  guard. 
Let  us  seize  him  and  drag  him  to  the  guard-room." 

46 


The  two  soldiers  dropped  their  halberds  and  rushed 
upon  the  old  man,  but,  tall  and  strong  as  they  were,  they 
found  it  no  easy  matter  to  secure  him.  With  his  long 
sinewy  arms  and  his  wiry  frame,  he  shook  himself  clear  of 
them  again  and  again,  and  it  was  only  when  his  breath  had 
failed  him  that  the  two,  torn  and  panting,  were  able  to  twist 
round  his  wrists,  and  so  secure  him.  They  had  hardly  won 
their  pitiful  victory,  however,  before  a  stern  voice  and  a 
sword  flashing  before  their  eyes,  compelled  them  to  release 
their  prisoner  once  more. 

It  was  Captain  de  Catinat,  who,  his  morning  duties  over, 
had  strolled  out  on  to  the  terrace  and  had -come  upon  this 
sudden  scene  of  outrage.  At  the  sight  of  the  old  man's 
face  he  gave  a  violent  start,  and  drawing  his  sword,  had 
rushed  forward  with  such  fury  that  the  two  guardsmen  not 
only  dropped  their  victim,  but,  staggering  back  from  the 
threatening  sword-point,  one  of  them  slipped  and  the  other 
rolled  over  him,  a  revolving  mass  of  blue  coat  and  white 
kersey. 

"  Villains  !"  roared  de  Catinat.  "  What  is  the  meaning 
of  this  ?" 

The  two  had  stumbled  on  to  their  feet  again,  very  shame- 
faced and  ruffled. 

"  If  you  please,  Captain,"  said  one,  saluting,  "  this  is  a 
Huguenot  who  abused  the  royal  guard." 

"  His  petition  had  been  rejected  by  the  King,  Captain, 
and  yet  he  refused  to  go." 

De  Catinat  was  white  with  fury.  "And  so  when  a  French 
citizen  has  come  to  have  a  word  with  the  great  master  of 
his  country;  he  must  be  harassed  by  two  Swiss  dogs  like 
you  ?"  he  cried.  "  By  my  faith,  we  shall  soon  see  about 
that  ?" 

He  drew  a  little  silver  whistle  from  his  pocket,  and  at  the 
shrill  summons  an  old  sergeant  and  half  a  dozen  soldiers 
came  running  from  the  guard-room. 

"  Your  names  ?"  asked  the  Captain,  sternly. 

"  Andre  Meunier." 

<l  And  yours  ?'' 

••'•  Nicholas  Klopper, 

47 


"  Sergeant,  you  will  arrest  these  men,  Meunier  and  Klop- 
per." 

"  Certainly,  Captain,"  said  the  sergeant,  a  dark  grizzled 
old  soldier  of  Conds  and  Turenne. 

"  See  that  they  are  tried  to-day." 

"  And  on  what  charge,  Captain  ?" 

"  For  assaulting  an  aged  and  respected  citizen  who  had 
come  on  business  to  the  King." 

"  He  was  a  Huguenot  on  his  own  confession,"  cried  the 
culprits  together. 

"  Hum  !"  The  sergeant  pulled  doubtfully  at  his  long 
mustache.  "  Shall  we  put  the  charge  in  that  form,  Captain  ? 
Just  as  the  Captain  pleases."  He  gave  a  little  shrug  of  his 
epauletted  shoulders  to  signify  his  doubt  whether  any  good 
could  arise  from  it. 

"No,"  said  de  Catinat,  with  a  sudden  happy  thought. 
"  I  charge  them  with  laying  their  halberds  down  while  on 
duty,  and  with  having  their  uniforms  dirty  and  disarranged." 

"  That  is  better,"  answered  the  sergeant,  with  the  freedom 
of  a  privileged  veteran.  "  Thunder  of  God,  but  you  have 
disgraced  the  guards !  An  hour  on  the  wooden  horse  with 
a  musket  at  either  foot  may  teach  you  that  halberds  were 
made  for  a  soldier's  hand,  and  not  for  the  King's  grass-plot. 
Seize  them  !  Attention  !  Right  half  turn  !  March  !"  And 
away  went  the  little  clump  of  guardsmen  with  the  sergeant 
in  the  rear. 

The  Huguenot  had  stood  in  the  background,  grave  and 
composed,  without  any  sign  of  exultation,  during  this  sud- 
den reversal  of  fortune ;  but  when  the  soldiers  were  gone, 
he  and  the  young  officer  turned  warmly  upon  each  other. 

"  Amory,  I  had  not  hoped  to  see  you  !" 

"  Nor  I  you,  uncle.  What,  in  the  name  of  wonder,  brings 
you  to  Versailles  ?" 

"  My  wrongs,  Amory.  The  hand  of  the  wicked  is  heavy 
upon  us,  and  whom  can  we  turn  to  save  only  the  King  ?" 

The  young  officer  shook  his  head.  "  The  King  is  at 
heart  a  good  man,"  said  he.  "  But  he  can  only  see  the 
world  through  the  glasses  which  are  held  before  him.  You 
have  nothing  to  hope  from  him." 

48 


"  He  spurned  me  from  his  presence." 

"  Did  he  ask  you  your  name  ?'' 

"  He  did,  and  I  gave  it." 

The  young  guardsman  whistled.  "  Let  us  walk  to  the 
gate,"  said  he.  "  By  my  faith,  if  my  kinsmen  are  to  come 
and  bandy  arguments  with  the  King,  it  may  not  be  long 
before  my  company  finds  itself  without  its  captain." 

"  The  King  would  not  couple  us  together.  But  indeed, 
nephew,  it  is  strange  to  me  how  you  can  live  in  this  house 
of  Baal  and  yet  bow  down  to  no  false  gods." 

"  I  keep  my  belief  in  my  own  heart." 

The  old  man  shook  his  head  gravely.  "Your  ways  lie 
along  a  very  narrow  path,"  said  he,  "  with  temptation  and 
danger  ever  at  your  feet.  It  is  hard  for  you  to  walk  with 
the  Lord,  Amory,  and  yet  go  hand  in  hand  with  the  perse- 
cutors of  His  people." 

"  Tut,  uncle  !"  said  the  young  man,  impatiently.  "  I  am 
a  soldier  of  the  King's,  and  I  am  willing  to  let  the  black 
gown  and  the  white  surplice  settle  these  matters  between 
them.  Let  me  live  in  honor  and  die  in  my  duty,  and  I  am 
content  to  wait  to  know  the  rest." 

"  Content,- too,  to  live  in  palaces,  and  eat  from  fine  linen," 
said  the  Huguenot,  bitterly,  "  when  the  hands  of  the  wicked 
are  heavy  upon  your  kinsfolk,  and  there  is  a  breaking  of 
phials,  and  a  pouring  forth  of  tribulation,  and  a  Wailing  and 
a  weeping  throughout  the  land." 

"What  is  amiss,  then?"  asked  the  young  soldier,  who 
was  somewhat  mystified  by  the  scriptural  language  in  use 
among  the  French  Calvinists  of  the  day. 

"  Twenty  men  of  Moab  have  been  quartered  upon  me, 
with  one  Dalbert,  their  captain,  who  has  long  been  a 
scourge  to  Israel." 

"  Captain  Claude  Dalbert,  of  the  Languedoc  dragoons  ?  I 
have  already  some  small  score  to  settle  with  him." 

"  Ay,  and  the  scattered  remnant  has  also  a  score  against 
this  murderous  dog  and  self-seeking  Ziphite." 

"  What  has  he  done,  then  ?" 

"  His  men  are  over  my  house  like  moths  in  a  cloth  bale. 
No  place  is  free  from  them.  He  sits  in  the  room  which 

49 


should  be  mine,  his  great  boots  on  my  Spanish-leather 
chairs,  his  pipe  in  his  mouth,  his  wine-pot  at  his  elbow,  and 
his  talk  a  hissing  and  an  abomination.  He  has  beaten  old 
Pierre  of  the  warehouse." 

"Ha!" 

"  And  thrust  me  into  the  cellar." 

"Ha!" 

"  Because  I  have  dragged  him  back  when  in  his  drunken 
love  he  would  have  thrown  his  arms  about  your  cousin 
Adele." 

"Oh  !"  The  young  man's  color  had  been  rising  and  his 
brows  knitting  at  each  successive  charge,  but  at  this  last  his 
anger  boiled  over,  and  he  hurried  forward  with  fury  in  his 
face,  dragging  his  elderly  companion  by  the  elbow.  They 
had  been  passing  through  one  of  those  winding  paths,  bor- 
dered by  high  hedges,  which  thinned  away  every  here  and 
there  to  give  a  glimpse  of  some  prowling  faun  or  weary 
nymph  who  slumbered  in  marble  amid  the  foliage.  The  few 
courtiers  who  met  them  gazed  with  surprise  at  so  ill  assort- 
ed a  pair  of  companions.  But  the  young  soldier  was  too  full 
of  his  own  plans  to  waste  a  thought  upon  their  speculations. 
Still  hurrying  on,  he  followed  a  crescent  path  which  led  past 
a  dozen  stone  dolphins  shooting  water  out  of  their  mouths 
over  a  group  of  Tritons,  and  so  through  an  avenue  of  great 
trees  which  looked  as  if  they  had  grown  there  for  cen- 
turies, and  yet  had  in  truth  been  carried  over  that  very 
year  by  incredible  labor  from  St.  Germain  and  Fontaine- 
bleau.  Beyond  this  point  a  small  gate  leads  out  of  the 
grounds,  and  it  was  through  it  that  the  two  passed,  the  elder 
man  puffing  and  panting  at  this  unusual  haste. 

"  How  did  you  come,  uncle  ?" 

"  In  a  caleche." 

"  Where  is  it  ?" 

"  That  is  it,  beyond  the  auberge." 

"  Come,  let  us  make  for  it." 

"  And  you,  Amory,  are  you  coming  ?" 

"  My  faith,  it  is  time  that  I  came,  from  what  you  tell  me. 
There  is  room  for  a  man  with  a  sword  at  his  side  in  this 
establishment  of  yours." 

50 


"  But  what  would  you  do  ?" 

"  I  would  have  a  word  with  this  Captain  Dalbert." 

"Then  I  have  wronged  you,  nephew,  whe'n  I  said  even 
now  that  you  were  not  whole-hearted  towards  Israel." 

"I  know  not  about  Israel,"  cried  de  Catinat,  impatiently. 
"  I  only  know  that  if  my  Adele  chose  to  worship  the  thun- 
der like  an  Abenaqui  squaw,  or  turned  her  innocent  prayers 
to  the  Mitche  Manitou,  I  should  like  to  set  eyes  upon  the 
man  who  would  dare  to  lay  a  hand  upon  her.  Ha,  here 
comes  our  caleche  !  Whip  up,  driver,  and  five  livres  to  you 
if  you  pass  the  gate  of  the  Invalides  within  the  hour." 

It  was  no  light  matter  to  drive  fast  in  an  age  of  springless 
carriages  and  deeply  rutted  roads,  but  the  driver  lashed  at 
his  two  rough  undipped  horses,  and  the  caleche  jolted  and 
clattered  upon  its  way.  As  they  sped  on,  with  the  road-side 
trees  dancing  past  the  narrow  windows,  and  the  white  dust 
streaming  behind  them,  the  guardsman  drummed  his  fingers 
upon  his  knees,  and  fidgeted  in  his  seat  with  impatience, 
shooting  an  occasional  question  across  at  his  grim  com- 
panion. 

"When  was  all  this,  then?" 
4' It  was  yesterday  night." 

"  And  where  is  Adele  now  ?" 

"  She  is  at  home." 

"  And  this  Dalbert  ?" 

"  Oh,  he  is  there  al?o  !" 

"  What !  you  have  left  her  in  his  power  while  you  came 
away  to  Versailles  ?" 

"  She  is  locked  in  her  room." 

"  Pah  !  what  is  a  lock  ?"  The  young  man  raved  v/ith  his 
hands  in  the  air  at  the  thought  of  his  own  impotence. 

"  And  Pierre  is  there." 

"  He  is  useless." 

"  And  Amos  Green." 

"  Ah,  that  is  better.     He  is  a  man,  by  the  look  of  him." 

"  His  mother  was  one  of  our  own  folk  from  Staten  Island, 
near  Manhattan.  She  was  one  of  those  scattered  lambs 
who  fled  early  before  the  wolves,  when  first  it  was  seen  that 
the  King's  hand  waxed  heavy  upon  Israel.  He  speaks 

51 


French,  and  yet  he  is  neither  French  to  the  eye,  nor  are  his 
ways  like  our  ways." 

"  He  has  chosen  an  evil  time  for  his  visit." 

"  Some  wise  purpose  may  lie  hid  in  it." 

"  And  you  have  left  him  in  the  house  ?" 

"  Yes ;  he  was  sat  with  this  Dalbert,  smoking  with  him, 
and  telling  him  strange  tales." 

"  What  guard  could  he  be?     He  a  stranger  in  a  strange 
land  ?     You  did  ill  to  leave  Adele  thus,  uncle." 

"  She  is  in  God's  hands,  Amory." 

"  I  trust  so.     Oh,  I  am  on  fire  to  be  there  !" 

He  thrust  his  hand  through  the  cloud  of  dust  which  rose 
from  the  wheels,  and  craned  his  neck  to  look  upon  the  long 
curving  river  and  broad-spread  city,  which  was  already  visi- 
ble before  them,  half  hid  by  a  thin  blue  haze,  through  which 
shot  the  double  tower  of  Notre  Dame,  with  the  high  spire 
of  St.  Jaques  and  a  forest  of  other  steeples  and  minarets, 
the  monuments  of  eight  hundred  years  of  devotion.  Soon^ 
as  the  road  curved  down  to  the  river-bank,  the  city  wall 
grew  nearer  and  nearer,  until  they  had  passed  the  southern 
gate,  and  were  rattling  over  the  stony  causeway,  leaving, 
the  broad  Luxembourg  upon  their  right,  and  Colbert's  last 
work,  the  Invalides,  upon  their  left.  A  sharp  turn  brought 
them  on  to  the  river  quays,  and  crossing  over  the  Pont  Neuf, 
they  skirted  the  stately  Louvre,  and  plunged  into  the  laby- 
rinth of  narrow  but  important  streets\vhich  extended  to  the 
northward.  The  young  officer  had  his  head  still  thrust  out 
of  the  window,  but  his  view  was  obscured  by  a  broad  gilded 
carriage  which  lumbered  heavily  along  in  front  of  them. 
As  the  road  broadened,  however,  it  swerved  to  one  side,  and 
he  was  able  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  house  to  which  they 
were  making. 

It  was  surrounded  on  every  side  by  an  immense  crowd. 

52 


CHAPTER     VI 
A    HOUSE    OF    STRIFE 

THE  house  of  the  Huguenot  merchant  was  a  tall  narrow 
building  standing  at  the  corner  of  the  Rue  St.  Martin  and 
the  Rue  de  Biron.  It  was  four  stories  in  height,  grim  and 
grave  like  its  owner,  with  high  peaked  roof,  long  diamond- 
paned  windows,  a  framework  of  black  wood,  with  gray 
plaster  filling  the  interstices,  and  five  stone  steps  which  led 
up  to  the  narrow  and  sombre  door.  The  upper  story  was 
but  a  warehouse  in  which  the  trader  kept  his  stock,  but  the 
second  and  third  were  furnished  with  balconies  edged  with 
stout  wooden  balustrades.  As  the  Uncle  and  the  nephew 
sprang  out  of  the  caleche,  they  found  themselves  upon  the 
outskirts  of  a  dense  crowd  of  people,  who  were  swaying 
and  tossing  with  excitement,  their  chins  all  thrown  forward 
and  their  gaze  directed  upward.  Following  their  eyes,  the 
young  officer  saw  a  sight  which  left  him  standing  bereft  of 
every  sensation  save  amazement. 

From  the  upper  balcony  there  was  hanging  head  down- 
ward a  man  clad  in  the  bright  blue  coat  and  white  breeches 
of  one  of  the  King's  dragoons.  His  hat  and  wig0  had 
dropped  off,  and  his  close-cropped  head  swung  slowly  back- 
ward and  forward  a  good  fifty  feet  above  the  pavement. 
His  face  was  turned  towards  the  street,  and  was  of  a  deadly 
whiteness,  while  his  eyes  were  screwed  up  as  though  he 
dared  not  open  them  upon  the  horror  which  faced  them. 
His  voice,  however,  resounded  over  the  whole  place  until 
the  air  was  filled  with  his  screams  for  mercy. 

Above  him,  at  the  corner  of  the  balcony,  there  stood  a 
young  man  who  leaned  with  a  bent  back  over  the  balus- 
trade, and  who  held  the  dangling  dragoon  by  either  ankle. 

53 


His  face,  however,  was  not  directed  towards  his  victim,  but 
was  half  turned  over  his  shoulder  to  confront  a  group  of 
soldiers  who  were  clustering  at  the  long  open  window  which 
opened  out  into  the  balcony.  His  head,  as  he  glanced  at 
them,  was  poised  with  a  proud  air  of  defiance,  while  they 
surged  and  oscillated  in  the  opening,  uncertain  whether  to 
rush  on  or  to  retire. 

Suddenly  the  crowd  gave  a  groan  of  excitement.  The 
young  man  had  released  his  grip  upon  one  of  the  ankles, 
and  the  dragoon  hung  now  by  one  only,  his  other  leg  flap- 
ping helplessly  in  the  air.  He  grabbed  aimlessly  with  his 
hands  at  the  wall  and  the  wood-work  behind  him,  still  yell- 
ing at  the  pitch  of  his  lungs. 

"  Pull  me  up,  son  of  the  devil,  pull  me  up !"  he  screamed. 
"  Would  you  murder  me,  then  ?  Help,  good  people,  help  !" 

"  Do  you  want  to  come  up,  Captain  ?"  said  the  strong 
clear  voice  of  the  young  man  above  him,  speaking  excellent 
French,  but  in  an  accent  which  fell  strangely  upon  the  ears 
of  the  crowd  beneath. 

"  Yes,  sacred  name  of  God,  yes  !" 

"  Order  off  your  men,  then." 

"  Away,  you  dolts,  you  imbeciles  !  Do  you  wish  to  see 
me  dashed  to  pieces  ?  Away,  I  say  !  Off  with  you  !" 

"  That  is  better,"  said  the  youth,  when  the  soldiers  had 
vanished  from  the  window.  He  gave  a  tug  at  the  dragoon's 
leg  as  he  spoke,  which  jerked  Mm  up  so  far  that  he  could 
twist  round  and  catch  hold  of  the  lower  edge  of  the  bal- 
cony. "  How  do  you  find  yourself  now  ?"  he  asked. 

"  Hold  me,  for  Heaven's  sake,  hold  me  !" 

"  I  have  you  quite  secure." 

"  Then  pull  me  up  !" 

"  Not  so  fast,  Captain.  You  can  talk  very  well  where 
you  are." 

"  Let  me  up,  sir,  let  me  up !" 

"  All  in  good  time.  I  fear  that  it  is  inconvenient  to  you 
to  talk  with  your  heels  in  the  air." 

"  Ah,  you  would  murder  me  !" 

"  On  the  contrary,  I  am  going  to  pull  you  up." 

"  Heaven  bless  you  !" 

54 


'  But  only  on  conditions/' 

"  Oh,  they  are  granted  !     I  am  slipping  \"  ^ 

"  You  will  leave  this  house — you  and  your  men.  You  will 
not  trouble  this  old  man  or  this  young  girl  any  further.  Do 
you  promise  ?" 

"  Oh  yes  ;  we  shall  go." 

"  Word  of  honor  ?" 

"  Certainly.     Only  pull  me  up  !" 

"  Not  so  fast.  It  may  be  easier  to  talk  to  you  like  this. 
I  do  not  know  how  the  laws  are  over  here.  Maybe  this 
sort  of  thing  is  not  permitted.  You  will  promise  me  that  I 
shall  have  no  trouble  over  the  matter." 

"  None,  none.     Only  pull  me  up  !" 

"  Very  good.     Come  along  !" 

He  dragged  at  the  dragoon's  leg  while  the  other  gripped 
his  way  up  the  balustrade  until,  amid  a  buzz  of  congratu- 
lation from  the  crowd,  he  tumbled  all  in  a  heap  over  the 
rail  on  to  the  balcony,  where  he  lay  for  a  few  moments  as 
he  had  fallen.  Then  staggering  to  his  feet,  without  a  glance 
at  his  opponent,  he  rushed,  with  a  bellow  of  rage,  through 
the  open  window. 

While  this  little  drama  had  been  enacted  overhead,  the 
young  guardsman  had  shaken  off  his  first  stupor  of  amaze- 
ment, and  had  pushed  his  way  through  the  crowd  with  such 
vigor  that  he  and  his  companion  had  nearly  reached  the 
bottom  of  the  steps.  The  uniform  of  the  King's  guard  was 
in  itself  a  passport  anywhere,  and  the  face  of  old  Catinat 
was  so  well  known  in  the  district  that  every  one  drew  back 
to  clear  a  path  for  him  towards  his  house.  The  door  was 
flung  open  for  them,  and  an  old  servant  stood  wringing  his 
hands  in  the  dark  passage. 

"  Oh,  master !  Oh,  master  !"  he  cried.  "  Such  doings, 
such  infamy  !  They  will  murder  him  !" 

"  Whom,  then  ?" 

"  This  brave  monsieur  from  America.  Oh,  my  God,  hark 
to  them  now !" 

As  he  spoke,  a  clatter  and  shouting  which  had  burst  out 
again  up-stairs  ended  suddenly  in  a  tremendous  crash,  with 
volleys  of  oaths  and  a  prolonged  bumping  and  smashing, 

55 


which  shook  the  old  house  to  its  foundations.  The  soldier 
and  the  Huguenot  rushed  swiftly  up  the  first  flight  of  stairs, 
and  were  about  to  ascend  the  second  one,  from  the  head  of 
which  the  uproar  seemed  to  proceed,  when  a  great  eight-day 
clock  came  hurtling  down,  springing  four  steps  at  a  time, 
and  ending  with  a  leap  across  the  landing  and  a  crash 
against  the  wall,  which  left  it  a  shattered  heap  of  metal 
wheels  and  wooden  splinters.  An  instant  afterwards  four 
men,  so  locked  together  that  they  formed  but  one  rolling 
bundle,  came  thudding  down  amid  a  debris  of  splintered 
stair  rails,  and  writhed  and  struggled  upon  the  landing, 
staggering  up,  falling  down,  and  all  breathing  together  like 
the  wind  in  a  chimney.  So  twisted  and  twined  were  they 
that  it  was  hard  to  pick  one  from  the  other  save  that  the 
innermost  was  clad  in  black  Flemish  cloth,  while  the  three 
who  clung  to  him  were  soldiers  of  the  King.  Yet  so  strong 
and  vigorous  was  the  man  whom  they  tried  to  hold  that  as 
often  as  he  could  find  his  feet  he  dragged  them  after  him 
from  end  to  end  of  the  passage,  as  a  boar  might  pull  the 
curs  which  had  fastened  on  to  his  haunches.  An  officer, 
who  had  rushed  down  at  the  heels  of  the  brawlers,  thrust 
his  hands  in  to  catch  the  civilian  by  the  throat,  but  he 
whipped  them  back  again  with  an  oath  as  the  man's  strong 
white  teeth  met  in  his  left  thumb.  Clapping  the  wound 
to  his  mouth,  he  flashed  out  his  sword,  and  was  about 
to  drive  it  through  the  body  of  his  unarmed  opponent, 
when  de  Catinat  sprang  forward  and  caught  him  by  the 
wrist. 

"  You  villain,  Dalbert !"  he  cried. 

The  sudden  appearance  of  one  of  the  King's  own  body- 
guard had  a  magic  effect  upon  the  brawlers.  Dalbert  sprang 
back,  with  his  thumb  still  in  his  mouth,  and  his  sword  droop- 
ing, scowling  darkly  at  the  new-comer.  His  long  sallow 
face  was  distorted  with  anger,  and  his  small  black  eyes 
blazed  with  passion  and  with  the  hell-fire  light  of  unsatis- 
fied vengeance.  His  troopers  had  released  their  victim, 
and  stood  panting  in  a  line,  while  the  young  man  leaned 
against  the  wall,  brushing  the  dust  from  his  black  coat,  and 
looking  from  his  rescuer  to  his  antagonists. 

56 


"  I  had  a  little  account  to  settle  with  you  before,  Dal- 
bert,"  said  de  Catinat,  unsheathing  his  rapier, 

"  I  am  on  the  King's  errand,"  snarled  the  other. 

"  No  doubt.     On  guard,  sir  !" 

"  I  am  here  on  duty,  I  tell  you  !" 

"  Very  good.     Your  sword,  sir." 

"  I  have  no  quarrel  with  you." 

"  No  ?"  De  Catinat  stepped  forward  and  struck  him 
across  the  face  with  his  open  hand.  "  It  seems  to  me  that 
you  have  one  now,"  said  he. 

"  Hell  and  furies  !"  screamed  the  Captain.  "  To  your 
arms,  men  !  Hola,  there,  from  above  !  Cut  down  this  fel- 
low, and  seize  your  prisoner  !  Hola  !  In  the  King's  name  !" 

At  his  call  a  dozen  more  troopers  came  hurrying  down 
the  stairs,  while  the  three  upon  the  landing  advanced  upon 
their  former  antagonist.  He  slipped  by  them,  however,  and 
caught  out  of  the  old  merchant's  hand  the  thick  oak  stick 
which  he  carried. 

"  I  am  with  you,  sir,"  said  rue,  taking  his  place  beside  the 
guardsman. 

"  Call  off  your  canaille,  and  fight  me  like  a  gentleman," 
cried  de  Catinat. 

"  A  gentleman  !  Hark  to  the  bourgeois  Huguenot,  whose 
family  peddles  cloth !" 

"  You  coward !  I  will  write  liar  on  you  with  my  sword 
point!" 

He  sprang  forward,  and  sent  in  a  thrust  which  might 
have  found  its  way  to  Dalbert's  heart  had  the  heavy  sabre 
of  a  dragoon  not  descended  from  the  side  and  shorn  his 
more  delicate  weapon  short  off  close  to  the  hilt.  With  a 
shout  of  triumph,  his  enemy  sprang  furiously  upon  him  with 
his  rapier  shortened,  but  was  met  by  a  sharp  blow  from  the 
cudgel  of  the  young  stranger  which  sent  his  weapon  tink- 
ling on  to  the  ground.  A  trooper,  however,  on  the  stair 
had  pulled  out  a  pistol,  and  clapping  it  within  a  foot  of  the 
guardsman's  head,  was  about  to  settle  the  combat  once  and 
forever,  when  a  little  old  gentleman,  who  had  quietly  as- 
cended from  the  street,  and  who  had  been  looking  on  with 
an  amused  and  interested  smile  at  this  fiery  sequence  of 

57 


events,  took  a  sudden  quick  step  forward,  and  ordered  all 
parties  to  drop  their  weapons  with  a  voice  so  decided,  so 
stern,  and  so  full  of  authority,  that  the  sabre  points  all 
clinked  down  together  upon  the  parquet  flooring  as  though 
it  were  a  part  of  their  daily  drill. 

"Upon  my  word,  gentlemen,  upon  my  word!''  said  he, 
looking  sternly  from  one  to  the  other.  He  was  a  very 
small,  dapper  man,  as  thin  as  a  herring,  with  projecting 
teeth  and  a  huge  drooping  many-curled  wig,  which  cut  off 
the  line  of  his  skinny  neck  and  the  slope  of  his  narrow 
shoulders.  His  dress  was  a  long  overcoat  of  mouse-col- 
ored velvet  slashed  with  gold,  beneath  which  were  high 
leather  boots,  which,  with  his  little  gold -laced,  three-cor- 
nered hat,  gave  a  military  tinge  to  his  appearance.  In  his 
gait  and  bearing  he  had  a  dainty  strut  and  backward  cock 
of  the  head,  which,  taken  with  his  sharp  black  eyes,  his 
high  thin  features,  and  his  assured  manner,  would  impress 
a  stranger  with  the  feeling  that  this  was  a  man  of  power. 
And,  indeed,  in  France  or  out  of  it  there  were  fe^v  to  whom 
this  man's  name  was  not  familiar,  for  in  all  France  the  only 
figure  which  loomed  up  as  large  as  that  of  the  King  was 
this  very  little  gentleman  who  stood  now,  with  gold  snuff- 
box in  one  hand,  and  deep-laced  handkerchief  in  the  other, 
upon  the  landing  of  the  Huguenot's  house.  For  who  was 
there  who  did  not  know  the  last  of  the  great  French  nobles, 
the  bravest  of  French  captains,  the  beloved  Conde,  victor 
of  Rocroy,  and  hero  of  the  Fronde  ?  At  the  sight  of  his 
pinched  sallow  face  the  dragoons  and  their  leader  had  stood 
staring,  while  de  Catinat  raised  the  stump  of  his  sword  in 
a  salute. 

"  Heh,  heh  !"  cried  the  old  soldier,  peering  at  him.  "  You 
were  with  me  on  the  Rhine— heh?  I  know  your  face,  Cap- 
tain. But  the  household  was  with  Turenne." 

"  I  was  in  the  regiment  of  Picardy,  your  Highness.  De 
Catinat  is  my  name." 

"  Yes,  yes.     But  you,  sir,  who  the  devil  are  you  ?" 

"  Captain  Dalbert,  your  Highness,  of  the  Languedoc  Blue 
Dragoons." 

"  Hey  !  I  was  passing  in  my  carriage,  and  I  saw  you 

53 


standing  on  your  head  in  the  air.     The  young  man  let  you 
up  on  conditions,  as  I  understood."  w- 

"  He  swore  he  would  go  from  the  house,"  cried  the  young 
stranger.  "  Yet  when  I  had  let  him  up,  he  set  his  men 
upon  me,  and  we  all  came  down-stairs  together." 

"  My  faith,  you  seem  to  have  left  little  behind  you,"  said 
Conde,  smiling,  as  he  glanced  at  the  litter  which  was  strewed 
all  over  the  floor.  "  And  so  you  broke  your  parole,  Captain 
Dalbert  ?" 

"  I  could  not  hold  treaty  with  a  Huguenot  and  an  enemy 
of  the  King,"  said  the  dragooft,  sulkily. 

"You  could  hold  treaty,  it  appears,  but  not  keep  it.  And 
why  did  you  let  him  go,  sir,  when  you  had  him  at  such  a 
vantage  ?" 

"  I  believed  his  promise." 

"  You  must  be  of  a  trusting  nature." 

"  I  have  been  used  to  deal  with  Indians." 

"Heh!  And  you  think  an  Indian's  word  is  better  than 
that  of  an  officer  in  the  King's  dragoons  ?" 

"  I  did  not  think  so  an  hour  ago." 

"  Hem  !"  Conde  took  a  large  pinch  of  snuff,  and  brushed 
the  wandering  grains  from  his  velvet  coat  with  his  handker- 
chief of  point. 

"  You  are  very  strong,  monsieur,"  said  he,  glancing  keen- 
ly at  the  broad  shoulders  and  arching  chest  of  the  young 
stranger.  "  You  are  from  Canada,  I  presume  ?" 

"  I  have  been  there,  sir.     But  I  am  from  New  York." 

Conde  shook  his  head.     "  An  island  ?" 

"  No,  sir ;  a  town." 

"  In  what  province  ?" 

"  The  province  of  New  York." 

"  The  chief  town,  then  ?" 

"Nay;  Albany  is  the  chief  town." 

"  And  how  came  you  to  speak  French  ?" 

"  My  mother  was  of  French  blood." 

"  And  how  long  have  you  been  in  Paris  ?" 

"  A  day." 

"Heh  !  And  you  already  begin  to  throw  your  mother's 
country  folk  out  of  windows  r 

59 


"  He  was  annoying  a  young  maid,  sir,  and  I  asked  him 
to  stop,  whereon  he  whipped  out  his  sword,  and  would  have 
slain  me  had  I  not  closed  with  him,  upon  which  he  called 
upon  his  fellows  to  aid  him.  To  keep  them  off,  I  swore 
that  I  would  drop  him  over  if  they  moved  a  step.  Yet 
when  I  let  him  go,  they  set  upon  me  again,  and  I  know  not 
what  the  end  might  have  been  had  this  gentleman  not  stood 
my  friend." 

"  Hem !  You  did  very  well.  You  are  young,  but  you 
have  resource." 

"  I  was  reared  in  the  woods,  sir." 

"  If  there  are  many  of  your  kidney,  you  may  give  my 
friend  de  Frontenac  some  work  ere  he  found  this  empire 
of  which  he  talks.  But  how  is  this,  Captain  Dalbert  ?  What 
have  you  to  say  ?" 

"The  King's  orders,  your  Highness." 

"  Heh  !  Did  he  order  you  to  molest  the  girl  ?  I  have 
never  yet  heard  that  his  Majesty  erred  by  being  too  harsh 
with  a  woman."  He  gave  a  little  dry  chuckle  in  his  throat, 
and  took  another  pinch  of  snuff. 

"  The  orders  are,  your  Highness,  to  use  every  means  which 
may  drive  these  people  into  the  true  Church." 

"  On  my  word,  you  look  a  very  fine  apostle  and  a  pretty 
champion  for  a  holy  cause,"  said  Conde,  glancing  sardon- 
ically out  of  his  twinkling  black  eyes  at  the  brutal  face  of 
the  dragoon.  "  Take  your  men  out  of  this,  sir,  and  never 
venture  to  set  your  foot  again  across  this  threshold." 

"  But  the  King's  command,  your  Highness." 

"  I  will  tell  the  King  when  1  see  him  that  I  left  soldiers 
and  that  I  find  brigands.  Not  a  word,  sir !  Away !  You 
take  your  shame  with  you,  and  you  leave  your  honor  be- 
hind." He  had  turned  in  an  instant  from  the  sneering, 
strutting  old  beau  to  the  fierce  soldier  with  set  face  and 
eye  of  fire.  Dalbert  shrank  back  from  his  baleful  gaze,  and 
muttering  an  order  to  his  men,  they  filed  off  down  the  stair 
with  clattering  feet  and  clank  of  sabres. 

"  Your  Highness,"  said  the  old  Huguenot,  coming  for- 
ward and  throwing  open  one  of  the  doors  which  led  from 
the  landing,  "  you  have  indeed  been  a  savior  of  Israel  and 

60 


a  stumbling-block  to  the  fro  ward  this  day.  Will  you  not 
deign  to  rest  under  my  roof,  and  even  to  take  a.«cup  of  wine 
ere  you  go  onward  ?" 

Conde  raised  his  thick  eyebrows  at  the  scriptural  fashion 
of  the  merchant's  speech,  but  he  bowed  courteously  to  the 
invitation,  and  entered  the' chamber,  looking  around  him  in 
surprise  and  admiration  at  its  magnificence.  With  its  pan- 
elling of  dark  shining  oak,  its  polished  floor,  its  stately  mar- 
ble chimney  -  piece,  and  its  beautifully  moulded  ceiling,  it 
was  indeed  a  room  which  might  have  graced  a  palace. 

"  My  carriage  waits  below,"  said  he,  "  and  I  must  not  de- 
lay longer.  It  is  not  often  that  I  leave  my  castle  of  Chan- 
tilly  to  come  to  Paris,  and  it  was  a  fortunate  chance  which 
made  me  pass  in  time  to  be  of  service  to  honest  men. 
When  a  house  hangs  out  such  a  sign  as  an  officer  of  dra- 
goons with  his  heels  in  the  air,  it  is  hard  1$>  drive  past  with- 
out a  question.  But  I  fear  that  as  long  as  you  are  a  Hu- 
guenot, there  will  be  no  peace  for  you  in  France,  monsieur." 

"  The  law  is  indeed  heavy  upon  us." 

"  And  will  be  heavier  if  what  I  hear  from  court  is  cor- 
rect. I  wonder  that  you  do  not  fly  the  country." 

"  My  business  and  my  duty  lie  here." 

"  Well,  every  man  knows  his  own  affairs  best.  Would  it 
not  be  wise  to  bend  to  the  storm,  heh  ?" 

The  Huguenot  gave  a  gesture  of  horror. 

"Well,  well,  I  meant  no  harm.  And  where  is  this  fair 
maid  who  has  been  the  cause  of  the  broil  ?" 

"  Where  is  Adele,  Pierre  ?"  asked  the  merchant  of  the 
eld  servant,  who  had  carried  in  the  silver  tray  with  a  squat 
flask  and  tinted  Venetian  glasses. 

"  I  locked  her  in  my  room,  master." 

"  And  where  is  she  now  ?" 

"  I  am  here,  father."  A  young  girl  sprang  into  the 
room,  and  threw  her  arms  round  the  old  merchant's  neck. 
"  Oh,  I  trust  these  wicked  men  have  not  hurt  you,  love !" 

"  No,  no,  dear  child ;  none  of  us  have  been  hurt,  thanks 
to  his  Highness  the  Prince  of  Conde  here." 

Adele  raised  her  eyes,  and  quickly  drooped  them  again 
before  the  keen  questioning  gaze 'of  the  old  soldier.  "  May 
K  61 


God  reward  your  Highness  !"  she  stammered.  In  her  con- 
fusion the  blood  rushed  to  her  face,  which  was  perfect  in 
feature  and  expression.  With  her  sweetly  delicate  contour, 
her  large  gray  eyes,  and  the  sweep  of  the  lustrous  hair,  set- 
ting off  with  its  rich  tint  the  little  shell-like  ears  and  the 

& 

alabaster  whiteness  of  the  neck  and  throat,  even  Conde, 
who  had  seen  all  the  beauties  of  three  courts  and  of  sixty 
years  defile  before  him,  stood  staring  in  admiration  at  the 
Huguenot  maiden. 

"  Heh  !  On  my  word,  mademoiselle,  you  make  me  wish 
that  I  could  wipe  forty  years  from  my  account."  He 
bowed,  and  sighed  in  the  fashion  that  was  in  vogue  when 
Buckingham  came  to  the  wooing  of  Anne  of  Austria,  and 
the  dynasty  of  cardinals  was  at  its  height. 

"  France  could  ill  spare  those  forty  years,  your  Highness." 

"  Heh,  heh  !  So  quick  of  tongue,  too  ?  Your  daughter 
has  a  courtly  wit,  monsieur." 

"  God  forbid,  your  Highness !  She  is  as  pure  and 
good—" 

"  Nay,  that  is  but  a  sorry  compliment  to  the  court. 
Surely,  mademoiselle,  you  would  love  to  go  out  into  the 
great  world,  to  hear  sweet  music,  see  all  that  is  lovely,  and 
wear  all  that  is  costly,  rather  than  look  out  ever  upon  the 
Rue  St.  Martin,  and  bide  in  this  great  dark  house  until  the 
roses  wither  upon  your  cheeks." 

"Where  my  father  is,  I  am  happy  at  his  side,"  said  she, 
putting  her  two  hands  upon  his  sleeve.  "I  ask  nothing 
more  than  I  have  got." 

"  And  I  think  it  best  that  you  go  up  to  your  room  again," 
said  the  old  merchant,  shortly,  for  the  prince,  in  spite  of 
his  age,  bore  an  evil  name  among  women.  He  had  come 
close  to  her  as  he  spoke,  and  had  even  placed  one  yellow 
hand  upon  her  shrinking  arm,  while  his  little  dark  eyes 
twinkled  with  an  ominous  light. 

"  Tut,  tut !"  said  he,  as  she  hastened  to  obey.  "  You  need 
not  fear  for  your  little  dove.  This  hawk,  at  least,  is  far 
past  the  stoop,  however  tempting  the  quarry.  But,  indeed, 
I  can  see  that  she  is  as  good  as  she  is  fair,  and  one  could 
not  say  more  than  that  if  she  were  from  heaven  direct.  My 

62 


carriage  waits,  gentlemen,  and  I  wish  you  all  a  very  good 
day !"  He  inclined  his  bewigged  head,  and  strutted  off  in 
his  dainty,  dandified  fashion.  From  the  window  de  Catinat 
could  see  him  step  into  the  same  gilded  chariot  which  had 
stood  in  his  way  as  he  drove  from  Versailles. 

"  By  my  faith,"  said  he,  turning  to  the  young  American, 
"we  all  owe  thanks  to  the  prince,  but  it  seems  to  me,  sir, 
that  we  are  your  debtors  even  more.  You  have  risked  your 
life  for  my  cousin,  and  but  for  your  cudgel,  Dalbert  would 
have  had  his  blade  through  me  when  he  had  me  at  a  van- 
tage. Your  hand,  sir  !  These  are  things  which  a  man 
cannot  forget." 

"  Ay,  you  may  well  thank  him,  Amory,"  broke  in  the  old 
Huguenot,  who  had  returned  after  escorting  his  illustrious 
guest  to  the  carriage.  "  He  has  been  raised  up  as  a  cham- 
pion for  the  afflicted,  and  as  a  helper  for  those  who  are  in 
need.  An  old  man's  blessing  upon  you,  Amos  Green,  for 
my  own  son  could  not  have  done  for  me  more  than  you,  a 
stranger." 

But  their  young  visitor  appeared  to  be  more  embarrassed 
by  their  thanks  than  by  any  of  his  preceding  adventures. 
The  blood  flushed  to  his  weather-tanned,  clear-cut  face,  as 
smooth  as  that  of  a  boy,  and  yet  marked  by  a  firmness  of 
lip  and  a  shrewdness  in  the  keen  blue  eyes  which  spoke  of 
a  strong  and  self-reliant  nature. 

"  I  have  a  mother  and  two  sisters  over  the  water,"  said 
he,  diffidently. 

"  And  you  honor  women  for  their  sake  ?" 

"We  always  honor  women  over  there.  Perhaps  it  is 
that  we  have  so  few.  Over  in  these  old  countries  you  have 
not  learned  what  it  is  to  be  without  them.  I  have  been 
away  up  the  lakes  for  furs,  living  for  months  on  end  the 
life  of  a  savage  among  the  wigwams  of  the  Sacs  and  the 
Foxes,  foul  livers  and  foul  talkers,  ever  squatting  like  toads 
around  their  fires.  Then  when  I  have  come  back  to 
Albany,  where  my  folk  then  dwelt,  and  have  heard  my 
sisters  play  upon  the  spinet  and  sing,  and  my  mother  talk 
to  us  of  the  France  of  her  younger  days  and  of  her  child- 
hood, and  of  all  that  they  had  suffered  for  what  they 

63 


thought  was  right,  then  I  have  felt  what  a  good  woman  is, 
and  how,  like  the  sunshine,  she  draws  out  of  one's  soul  all 
that  is  purest  and  best." 

"  Indeed,  the  ladies  should  be  very  much  obliged  to  mon- 
sieur, who  is  as  eloquent  as  he  is  brave,"  said  Adele  Cati- 
nat,  who,  standing  in  the  open  door,  had  listened  to  the 
latter  part  of  his  remarks. 

He  had  forgotten  himself  for  the  instant,  and  had  spoken 
freely  and  with  energy.  At  the  sight  of  the  girl,  however, 
he  colored  up  again,  and  cast  down  his  eyes. 

"  Much  of  my  life  has  been  spent  in  the  woods,"  said  he, 
"  and  one  speaks  so  little  there  that  one  comes  to  forget 
how  to  do  it.  It  was  for  this  that  my  father  wished  me  to 
stay  some  time  in  France,  for  he  would  not  have  me  grow 
up  a  mere  trapper  and  trader." 

"And  how  long  do  you  stop  in  Paris?"  asked  the 
guardsman. 

"  Until  Ephraim  Savage  comes  for  me." 

"  And  who  is  he  ?" 

"The  master  of  the  Golden  Rod" 

"  And  that  is  your  ship  ?" 

"  My  father's  ship.  She  has  been  to  Bristol,  is  now  at 
Rouen,  and  then  must  to  Bristol  again.  When  she  comes 
back  once  more,  Ephraim  comes  to  Paris  for  me,  and  it 
will  be  time  for  me  to  go." 

"  And  how  like  you  Paris  ?" 

The  young  man  smiled.  "  They  told  me  ere  I  came  that 
it  was  a  very  lively  place,  and  truly  from  the  little  that  I 
have  seen  this  morning,  I  think  that  it  is  the  liveliest  place 
that  I  have  seen." 

"  By  my  faith,"  said  de  Catinat,  "  you  came  down  those 
stairs  in  a  very  lively  fashion,  four  of  you  together,  with  a 
Dutch  clock  as  an  avant  -  courier,  and  a  whole  train  of 
wood-work  at  your  heels.  And  you  have  not  seen  the  city 
yet  ?" 

"Only  as  I  journeyed  through  it  yester-evening  on  my 
way  to  this  house.  It  is  a  wondrous  place,  but  I  was  pent 
in  for  lack  of  air  as  I  passed  through  it.  New  York  is  a 
great  city.  There  are  said  to  be  as  many  as  three  thou- 

64 


sand  folk  living  there,  and  they  say  that  they  could  send 
out  four  hundred  fighting  men,  though  I  can  scarce  bring 
myself  to  believe  it.  Yet  from  all  parts  of  "the  city  one 
may  see  something  of  God's  handiwork  —  the  trees,  the 
green  of  the  grass,  and  the  shine  of  the  sun  upon  the  bay 
and  the  rivers.  But  here  it  is  stone  and  wood,  and  wood 
and  stone,  look  where  you  will.  In  truth,  you  must  be  very 
hardy  people  to  keep  your  health  in  such  a  place." 

"And  to  us  it  is  you  who  seem  so  hardy,  with  your  life 
in  the  forest  and  on  the  river,"  cried  the  young  girl.  "  And 
then  the  wonder  that  you  can  find  your  path  through  those 
great  wildernesses,  where  there  is  naught  to  guide  you." 

"  Well,  there  again  !  I  marvel  bow  you  can  find  your 
way  among  these  thousands  of  houses.  For  myself  I  trust 
that  it  will  be  a  clear  night  to-night." 

"  And  why  ?" 

"  That  I  may  see  the  stars." 

"  But  you  will  find  no  change  in  them." 

"  That  is  it.  If  I  can  but  see  the  stars,  it  will  be  easy 
for  me  to  know  how  to  walk  when  I  would  find  this  house 
again.  In  the  daytime  I  can  carry  a  knife  and  notch  the 
door-posts  as  I  pass,  for  it  might  be  hard  to  pick  up  one's 
trail  again,  with  so  many  folk  ever  passing  over  it." 

De  Catinat  burst  out  laughing  again.  "  By  my  faith, 
you  will  find  Paris  livelier  than  ever,"  said  he,  "if  you 
blaze  your  way  through  on  the  door-posts  as  you  would  on 
the  trees  of  a  forest.  But  perchance  it  would  be  as  well 
that  you  should  have  a  guide  at  first ;  so,  if  you  have  two 
horses  ready  in  your  stables,  uncle,  our  friend  and  I  might 
shortly  ride  bajck  to  Versailles  together,  for  I  have  a  spell 
of  guard  again  before  many  hours  are  over.  Then  for 
some  days  he  might  bide  with  me  there,  if  he  will  share 
a  soldier's  quarters,  and  so  see  more  than  the  Rue  St. 
Martin  can  offer.  How  would  that  suit  you,  Monsieur 
Green  ?" 

"  I  should  be  right  glad  to  come  out  with  you,  if  we  may 
leave  all  here  in  safety." 

"  Oh,  fear  not  for  that,"  said  the  Huguenot.  "  The  order 
of  the  Prince  of  Conde  will  be  as  a  shield  and  a  buckler  to 

65 


us  for   many  a  day.     I  will  order  Pierre  to  saddle  the 
horses." 

"  And  I  must  use  the  little  time  I  have,"  said  the  guards- 
man, as  he  turned  away  to  where  Adele  waited  for  him  in 
the  window. 

66 


CHAPTER   VII 
THE    NEW    WORLD   AND   THE    OLD 

THE  young  American  was  soon  ready  for  the  expedition, 
but  de  Catinat  lingered  until  the  last  possible  minute. 
When  at  last  he  was  able  to  tear  himself  away,  he  adjusted 
his  cravat,  brushed  his  brilliant  coat,  and  looked  very  crit- 
ically over  the  sombre  suit  of  his  companion. 

"  Where  got  you  those  ?"  he  asked. 

"  In  New  York,  ere  I  left." 

"  Hem !  There  is  naught  amiss  with  the  cloth,  and  indeed 
the  sombre  color  is  the  mode,  but  the  cut  is  strange  to  our 
eyes." 

"  I  only  know  that  I  wish  that  I  had  my  fringed  hunting 
tunic  and  leggings  on  once  more." 

"  This  hat,  now.  We  do  not  wear  our  brims  flat  like  that. 
See  if  I  cannot  mend  it."  He  took  the  beaver,  and  looping 
up  one  side  of  the  brim,  he  fastened  it  with  a  golden  brooch 
taken  from  his  own  shirt-front.  "  There  is  a  martial  cock,'' 
said  he,  laughing,  "  and  would  do  credit  to  the  King's  Own 
Musketeers.  The  black  broadcloth  and  silk  hose  will  pass ; 
but  why  have  you  not  a  sword  at  your  side  ?" 

"  I  carry  a  gun  when  I  ride  out." 

"  Mon  Dieu,  you  will  be  laid  by  the  heels  as  a  bandit !" 

'.'  I  have  a  knife,  too." 

"  Worse  and  worse  1  Well,  we  must  dispense  with  the 
sword,  and  with  the  gun  too,  I  pray !  Let  me  re  -  tie  your 
cravat.  So !  Now  if  you  are  in  the  mood  for  a  ten-mile 
gallop,  I  am  at  your  service." 

They  were  indeed  a  singular  contrast  as  they  walked 
their  horses  together  through  the  narrow  and  crowded  cause- 
ways of  the  Parisian  streets.  De  Catinat,  who  was  the 

67 


older  by  five  years,  with  his  delicate  small-featured  face,  his 
sharply  trimmed  mustache,  his  small  but  well-set  and  dainty 
figure,  and  his  brilliant  dress,  looked  the  very  type  of  the 
great  nation  to  which  he  belonged. 

His  companion,  however,  large-limbed  and  strong,  turn- 
ing his  bold  and  yet  thoughtful  face  from  side  to  side,  and 
eagerly  taking  in  all  the  strange  new  life  amid  which  he 
found  himself,  was  also  a  type,  unfmished  it  is  true,  but 
bidding  fair  to  be  the  higher  of  the  two.  His  close  yellow 
hair,  blue  eyes,  and  heavy  build  showed  that  it  was  the 
blood  of  his  father  rather  than  that  of  his  mother,  which  ran 
in  his  veins  ;  and  even  the  sombre  coat  and  swordless  belt, 
if  less  pleasing  to  the  eye,  were  true  badges  of  a  race  which 
found  its  fiercest  battles  and  its  most  glorious  victories  in 
bending  nature  to  its  will  upon  the  seas  and  in  the  waste 
places  of  the  earth. 

"What  is  yonder  great  building?"  he  asked,  as  they 
emerged  into  a  broader  square. 

"  It  is  the  Louvre,  one  of  the  palaces  of  the  King." 

"  And  is  he  there  ?" 

"  Nay ;  he  lives  at  Versailles." 

"  What !  Fancy  that  a  man  should  have  two  such 
houses!" 

"  Two  !  He  has  many  more — St.  Germain,  Marly,  Fon- 
tainebleau,  Clugny." 

"But  to  what  end?  A  man -can  but  live  at  one  at  a 
time." 

"  Nay;  he  can  now  come  or  go  as  the  fancy  takes  him." 

"  It  is  a  wondrous  building.  I  have  seen  the  Seminary 
of  St.  Sulpice  at  Montreal,  and  thought  that  it  was  the 
greatest  of  all  houses,  and  yet  what  is  it  beside  this  ?" 

"  You  have  been  to  Montreal  then  ?  You  remember  the 
fort  ?" 

"  Yes,  and  the  Hotel  Dieu,  and  the  wooden  houses  in  a 
row,  and  eastward  the  great  mill  with  the  wall ;  but  what 
do  you  know  of  Montreal  ?" 

"  I  have  soldiered  there,  and  at  Quebec,  too.  Why,  my 
friend,  you  are  not  the  only  man  of  the  woods  in  Paris,  for 
I  give  you  my  word  that  I  have  worn  the  caribou  moccasins, 

68 


the  leather  jacket,  and  the  fur  cap  with  the  eagle  feather 
for  six  months  at  a  stretch,  and  I  care  not  how  soon  I  do 
it  again." 

Amos  Green's  eyes  shone  with  delight  at  finding  that  his 
companion  and  he  had  so  much  in  common,  and  he  plunged 
into  a  series  of  questions  which  lasted  until  they  had  crossed 
the  river  and  reached»the  south-westerly  gate  of  the  city. 
By  the  moat  and  walls  long  lines  of  men  were  busy  at  their 
drill. 

"  Who  are  those,  then  ?"  he  asked,  gazing  at  them  with 
curiosity. 

"  They  are  some  of  the  King's  soldiers." 

"  But  why  so  many  of  them  ?  Do  they  await  some  enemy  ?" 

"  Nay  ;  we  are  at  peace  with  all  the  world.   Worse  luck  !" 

"  At  peace.     Why  then  all  these  men  ?" 

"  That  they  may  be  ready." 

The  young  man  shook  his  head  in  bewilderment.  "  They 
might  be  as  ready  in  their  own  homes  surely.  In  our  coun- 
try every  man  has  his  musket  in  his  chimney  corner,  and  is 
ready  enough,  yet  he  does  not  waste  his  time  when  all  is  at 
peace." 

"  Our  King  is  very  great,  and  he  has  many  enemies." 

"  And  who  made  the  enemies  ?" 

"Why,  the  King,  to  be  sure." 

"  Then  would  it  not  be  better  to  be  without  him  ?" 

The  guardsman  shrugged  his  epaulets  in  despair.  "  We 
shall  both  wind  up  in  the  Bastille  or  Vincennes  at  this 
rate,"  said  he.  "You  must  know  that  it  is  in  serving  the 
country  that  he  has  made  these  enemies.  It  is  but  five 
years  since  he  made  a  peace  at  Nimeguen,  by  which  he  tore 
away  sixteen  fortresses  from  the  Spanish  Lowlands.  Then, 
also,  he  has  laid  his  hands  upon  Strasburg  and  upon  Lux- 
embourg, and  has  chastised  the  Genoans,  so  that  there  are 
many  who  would  fall  upon  him  if  they  thought  that  he  was 
weak." 

"And  why  has  he  done  all  this  ?" 

"Because  he  is  a  great  King,  and  for  the  glory -of 
France." 

The  stranger  pondered  over  this  answer  for  some  time  as 

69 


they  rode  on  between  the  high  thin  poplars,  which  threw 
bars  across  the  sunlit  road. 

"There  was  a  great  man  in  Schenectady  once,"  said  he 
at  last.  "  They  are  simple  folk  up  yonder,  and  they  all  had 
great  trust  in  each  other.  But  after  this  man  came  among 
them  they  began  to  miss — one  a  beaver-skin,  and  one  a^>ag 
of  ginseng,  and  one  a  belt  of  wampum,  until  at  last  old  Pete 
Hendricks  lost  his  chestnut  three-year-old.  Then  there  was 
a  search  and  a  fuss  until  they  found  all  that  had  been  lost 
in  the  stable  of  the  new-comer,  so  we  took  him,  I  and  some 
others,  and  we  hung  him  up  on  a  tree  without  ever  thinking 
what  a  great  man  he  had  been." 

De  Catinat  shot  an  angry  glance  at  his  companion. 
"  Your  parable,  my  friend,  is  scarce  polite,"  said  he.  "  If 
you  and  I  are  to  travel  in  peace,  you  must  keep  a  closer 
guard  upon  your  tongue." 

"  I  would  not  give  you  offence,  and  it  may  be  that  I  am 
wrong,"  answered  the  American,  "but  I  speak  as  the  matter 
seems  to  me,  and  it  is  the  right  of  a  free  man  to  do  that." 

De  Catinat's  frown  relaxed  as  the  other  turned  his  earnest 
blue  eyes  upon  him.  "By  my  soul,  where  would  the  court 
be  if  every  man  did  that  ?"  said  he.  "  But  what  in  the  name 
of  Heaven  is  amiss  now  ?" 

His  companion  had  hurled  himself  off  his  horse,  and  was 
stooping  low  over  the  ground,  with  his  eyes  bent  upon  the 
dust.  Then,  with  quick,  noiseless  steps,  he  zigzagged  along 
the  road,  ran  swiftly  across  a  grassy  bank,  and  stood  peering 
at  the  gap  of  a  fence,  with  his  nostrils  dilated,  his  eyes  shin- 
ing, and  his  whole  face  aglow  with  eagerness. 

"The  fellow's  brain  is  gone,"  muttered  de  Catinat,  as  he 
caught  at  the  bridle  of  the  riderless  horse.  "  The  sight  of 
Paris  has  shaken  his  wits.  What  in  the  name  of  the  devil 
ails  you,  that  you  should  stand  glaring  there  ?" 

"A  deer  has  passed,"  whispered  the  other,  pointing  down 
at  the  grass.  "  Its  trail  lies  along  there  and  into  the  wood. 
It  could  not  have  been  long  ago,  and  there  is  no  slur  to  the 
track,  so  that  it  was  not  going  fast.  Had  we  but  fetched  my 
gun,  we  might  have  followed  it,  and  brought  the  old  man 
back  a  side  of  venison." 

70 


"  For  God's  sake  get  on  your  horse  again  !"  cried  de  Cat- 
mat,  distractedly.  "  I  fear  that  some  evil  will  come  upon 
you  ere  I  get  you  safe  to  the  Rue  St.  Martin  again  !" 

"  And  what  is  wrong  now?"  asked  Amos  Green,  swinging 
himself  into  the  saddle. 

"Why,  man,  these  woods  are  the  King's  preserves,  and 
you  speak  as  coolly  of  slaying  his  deer  as  though  you  were 
on  the  shores  of  Michigan  !" 

"  Preserves  !  They  are  tame  deer  !"  An  expression  of 
deep  disgust  passed  over  his  face,  and  spurring  his  horse, 
he  galloped  onward  at  such  a  pace  that  de  Catinat,  after 
vainly  endeavoring  to  keep  up,  had  to  shriek  to  him  to  stop. 

"  It  is  not  usual  in  this  country  to  ride  so  madly  along 
the  roads,"  he  panted. 

"  It  is  a  very  strange  country,"  cried  the  stranger,  in  per- 
plexity. "  Maybe  it  would  be  easier  for  me  to  remember 
what  is  allowed.  It  was  but  this  morning  that  I  took  my 
gun  to  shoot  a  pigeon  that  was  flying  over  the  roofs  in 
yonder  street,  and  old  Pierre  caught  my  arm  with  a  face  as 
though  it  was  the  minister  that  I  was  aiming  at.  And  then 
there  is  that  old  man — why,  they  will  not  even  let  him  say 
his  prayers." 

De  Catinat  laughed.  "  You  will  come  to  know  our  ways 
soon,"  said  he.  "  This  is  a  crowded  land,  and  if  all  men 
rode  and  shot  as  they  listed,  much  harm  would  come  from 
it.  But  let  us  talk  rather  of  your  own  country.  You  have 
lived  much  in  the  woods  from  what  you  tell  me." 

"  I  was  but  ten  when  first  I  journeyed  with  my  uncle  to 
Sault  la  Marie,  where  the  three  great  lakes  meet,  to  trade 
with  the  Chippewas  and  the  tribes  of  the  West." 

"  I  know  not  what  La  Salle  or  de  Frontenac  would  have 
said  to  that.  The  trade  in  those  parts  belongs  to  France." 

"  We  were  taken  prisoners,  and  so  it  was  that  I  came  to 
see  Montreal  and  afterwards  Quebec.  In  the  end  we  were 
sent  back  because  they  did  not  know  what  they  could  do 
with  us." 

"  It  was  a  good  journey  for  a  first." 

"  And  ever  since  I  have  been  trading — first,  on  the  Ken- 
nebec  with  the  Abenaquis,  in  the  great  forests  of  Maine,  and 


with  the  Micmac  fish-eaters  over  the  Penobscot.  Then  later 
with  the  Iroquois,  as  far  west  as  the  country  of  the  Sen- 
ecas.  At  Albany  and  Schenectady  we  stored  our  pelts,  and 
so  on  to  New  York,  where  my  father  shipped  them  over  the 
sea." 

"  But  he  could  ill  spare  you  surely  ?" 

"  Very  ill.  But  as  he  was  rich,  he  thought  it  best  that  I 
should  learn  some  things  that  are  not  to  be  found  in  the 
woods.  And  so  he  sent  me  in  the  Golden  Rod,  under  the 
care  of  Ephraim  Savage." 

"  Who  is  also  of  New  York  ?" 

"  Nay ;  he  is  the  first  man  that  ever  was  born  at  Boston." 

"  I  cannot  remember  the  names  of  all  these  villages." 

"  And  yet  there  may  come  a  day  when  their  names  shall 
be  as  well  known  as  that  of  Paris." 

De  Catinat  laughed  heartily.  "The  woods  may  have 
given  you  much,  but  not  the  gift  of  prophecy,  my  friend. 
Well,  my  heart  is  often  over  the  water  even  as  yours  is,  and 
I  would  ask  nothing  better  than  to  see  the  palisades  of 
Point  Levi  again,  even  if  all  the  Five  Nations  were  raving 
upon  the  other  side  of  them.  But  now,  if  you  will  look 
there  in  the  gap  of  the  trees,  you  will  see  the  King's  new 
palace." 

The  two  young  men  pulled  up  their  horses,  and  looked 
down  at  the  wide-spreading  building  in  all  the  beauty  of  its 
dazzling  whiteness,  and  at  the  lovely  grounds,  dotted  with 
fountain  and  with  statue,  and  barred  with  hedge  and  with 
walk,  stretching  away  to  the  dense  woods  which  clustered 
round  them.  It  amused  de  Catinat  to  watch  the  swift  play 
of  wonder  and  admiration  which  flashed  over  his  compan- 
ion's features. 

"  Well,  what  do  you  think  of  it  ?"  he  asked  at  last. 

"  I  think  that  God's  best  work  is  in  America,  and  man's 
in  Europe." 

"  Ay,  and  in  all  Europe  there  is  no  such  palace  as  that, 
even  as  there  is  no  such  King  as  he  who  dwells  within  it." 

"  Can  I  see  him,  think  you  ? 

"  Who,  the  King  ?  No,  no ;  I  fear  that  you  are  scarce 
made  for  a  court." 

72 


"  Nay,  I  should  show  him  all  honor." 

"  How,  then  ?     What  greeting  would  you  give  him  ?" 

"  I  would  shake  him  respectfully  by  the  hand,  and  ask  as 
to  his  health  and  that  of  his  family." 

"  On  my  word,  I  think  that  such  a  greeting  might  please 
him  more  than  the  bent  knee  and  the  rounded  back,  and 
yet,  I  think,  my  son  of  the  woods,  that  it  were  best  not  to 
lead  you  into  paths  where  you  would  be  lost,  as  would  any 
of  the  courtiers  if  you  dropped  them  in  the  gorge  of  the  Sag- 
uenay.  But  hola  !  what  comes  here  ?  It  looks  like  one  of 
the  carriages  of  the  court." 

A  white  cloud  of  dust,  which  had  rolled  towards  them 
down  the  road,  was  now  so  near  that  the  glint  of  gilding  and 
the  red  coat  of  the  coachman  could  be  seen  breaking  out 
through  it.  As  the  two  cavaliers  reined  their  horses  aside 
to  leave  the  roadway  clear,  the  coach  rumbled  heavily  past 
them,  drawn  by  two  dapple  grays,  and  the  horsemen  caught 
a  glimpse,  as  it  passed,  of  a  beautiful  but  haughty  face  which 
looked  out  at  them.  An  instant  afterwards  a  sharp  cry  had 
caused  the  driver  to  pull  up  his  horses,  and  a  white  hand 
beckoned  to  them  through  the  carriage  window. 

"It  is  Madame  de  Montespan,  the  proudest  woman  in 
France,"  whispered  de  Catinat.  "  She  would  speak  with 
us,  so  do  as  I  do." 

He  touched  his  horse  with  the  spur,  which  gave  a  gambade 
which  took  him  across  to  the  carriage,  and  then,  sweeping 
off  his  hat,  he  bowed  to  his  horse's  neck  ;  a  salute  in  which 
he  was  imitated,  though  in  a  somewhat  ungainly  fashion,  by 
his  companion. 

"  Ha,  Captain  !"  said  the  lady,  with  no  very  pleasant  face, 
"  we  meet  again." 

"  Fortune  has  ever  been  good  to  me,  madame." 

"  It  was  not  so  this  morning." 

"  You  say  truly.     It  gave  me  a  hateful  duty  to  perform." 

"  And  you  performed  it  in  a  hateful  fashion." 

"  Nay,  madame,  what  could  I  do  more  ?" 

The  lady  sneered,  and  her  beautiful  face  turned  as  bitter 
as  it  could  upon  occasion.  "  You  thought  that  I  had  no 
more  power  with  the  King.  You  thought  that  my  day  was 

73 


past.  No  doubt  it  seemed  to  you  that  you  might  reap  favor 
with  the  new  by  being  the  first  to  cast  a  slight  upon  the  old." 

"  But,  madame — " 

"You  may  spare  your  protestations.  I  am  one  who 
judges  by  deeds  and  not  by  words.  Did  you,  then,  think 
that  my  charm  had  so  faded,  that  any  beauty  which  I  ever 
have  had  is  so  withered  ?" 

"  Nay,  madame,  I  were  blind  to  think  that." 

"  Blind  as  a  noontide  owl,"  said  Amos  Green,  with  em- 
phasis. 

Madame  de  Montespan  arched  her  eyebrows  and  glanced 
at  her  singular  admirer.  "  Your  friend  at  least  speaks  that 
which  he  really  feels,"  said  she.  "  At  four  o'clock  to-day 
we  shall  see  whether  others  are  of  the  same  mind ;  and  if 
they  are,  then  it  may  be  ill  for  those  who  mistook  what  was 
but  a  passing  shadow  for  a  lasting  cloud."  She  cast  another 
vindictive  glance  at  the  young  guardsman,  and  rattled  on 
once  more  upon  her  way. 

"  Come  on !"  cried  de  Catinat,  curtly,  for  his  companion 
was  staring  open-mouthed  after  the  carriage.  "  Have  you 
never  seen  a  woman  before  ?" 

"  Never  such  a  one  as  that." 

"  Never  one  with  so  railing  a  tongue,  I  dare  swear,"  said 
de  Catinat. 

"  Never  one  with  son  lovely  a  face.  And  yet  there  is  a 
lovely  face  at  the  Rue  St.  Martin  also." 

"  You  seem  to  have  a  nice  taste  for  beauty,  for  all  your 
woodland  training." 

"  Yes,  for  I  have  been  cut  away  from  women  so  much  that 
when  I  stand  before  one,  I  feel  that  she  is  something  tender 
and  sweet  and  holy." 

"  You  may  find  dames  at  the.court  who  are  both  tender 
and  sweet,  but  you  will  look  long,  my  friend,  before  you  find 
the  holy  one.  This  one  will  ruin  me  if  she  can,  and  only 
because  I  have  done  what  it  was  my  duty  to  do.  To  keep 
one's  self  in  this  court  is  like  coming  down  the  La  Chine 
Rapids  where  there  is  a  rock  to  right,  and  a  rock  to  left,  and 
another  perchance  in  front,  and  if  you  so  much  as  graze  one, 
where  are  you  and  your  birch  canoe  ?  But  our  rocks  are 

74 


women,  and  in  our  canoe  we  bear  all  our  worldly  fortunes. 
Now  here  is  another  who  would  sway  me  ov$r  to  her  side, 
and  indeed  I  think  that  it  may  prove  to  be  the  better  side 
too." 

They  had  passed  through  the  gateway  of  the  palace,  and 
the  broad  sweeping  drive  lay  in  front  of  them,  dotted  with 
carriages  and  horsemen.  On  the  gravel -walks  were  many 
gayly  dressed  ladies,  who  strolled  among  the  flower  beds 
or  watched  the  fountains  with  the  sunlight  glinting  upon 
their  high  water  sprays.  One  of  these,  who  had  kept  her 
eyes  turned  upon  the  gate,  came  hastening  forward  the  in- 
stant that  de  Catinat  appeared.  It  was  Mademoiselle  Na- 
non,  the  confidante  of  Madame  de  Maintenon. 

"  I  am  so  pleased  to  see  you,  Captain,"  she  cried,  "  and 
I  have  waited  so  patiently.  Madame  would  speak  with  you. 
The  King  comes  to  her  at  three,  and  we  have  but  twenty 
minutes.  I  heard  that  you  had  gone  to  Paris,  and  so  I 
stationed  myself  here.  Madame  has  something  which  she 
would  ask  you." 

"  Then  I  will  come  at  once.  Ah,  de  Brissac,  it  is  well 
met !" 

A  tall  burly  officer  was  passing  in  the  same  uniform  which 
de  Catinat  wore.  He  turned  at  once,  and  came  smiling 
towards  his  comrade. 

"  Ah,  Amory,  you  have  covered  a  league  or  two  from  the 
dust  on  your  coat !" 

"  We  are  fresh  from  Paris.  But  I  am  called  on  busi- 
ness. This  is  my  friend,  Monsieur  Amos  Green.  I  leave 
him  in  your  hands,  for  he  is  a  stranger  from  America,  and 
would  fain  see  all  that  you  can  show.  He  stays  with  me  at 
my  quarters.  And  my  horse,  too,  de  Brissac.  You  can 
give  it  to  the  groom." 

Throwing  the  bridle  to  his  brother  officer,  and  pressing 
the  hand  of  Amos  Green,  de  Catinat  sprang  from  his  horse, 
and  followed  at  the  top  of  his  speed  in  the  direction  which 
the  young  lady  had  already  taken. 

75 


CHAPTER  VIII 
THE    RISING    SUN 

THE  rooms  which  were  inhabited  by  the  lady  who  had 
already  taken  so  marked  a  position  at  the  court  of  France 
were  as  humble  as  were  her  fortunes  at  the  time  when  they 
were  allotted  to  her,  but  with  that  rare  tact  and  self-restraint 
which  were  the  leading  features  in  her  remarkable  charac- 
ter, she  had  made  no  change  in  her  living  with  the  increase 
of  her  prosperity,  and  forbore  from  provoking  envy  and 
jealousy  by  any  display  of  wealth  or  of  power.  In  a  side 
wing  of  the  palace,  far  from  the  central  salons,  and  only  to 
be  reached  by  long  corridors  and  stairs,  were  the  two  or 
three  small  chambers  upon  which  the  eyes,  first  of  the 
court,  then  of  France,  and  finally  of  the  world,  were  des- 
tined to  be  turned.  In  such  rooms  had  the  destitute  widow 
of  the  poet  Scarron  been  housed  when  she  had  first  been 
brought  to  court  by  Madame  de  Montespan  as  the  govern- 
ess of  the  royal  children,  and  in  such  rooms  she  still 
dwelt,  now  that  she  had  added  to  her  maiden  Franchise 
d'Aubigny  the  title  of  Marquise  de  Maintenon,  with  the 
pension  and  estate  which  the  King's  favor  had  awarded 
her.  Here  it  was  that  every  day  the  King  would  lounge, 
finding  in  the  conversation  of  a  clever  and  virtuous  woman 
a  charm  and  a  pleasure  which  none  of  the  professed  wits 
of  his  sparkling  court  had  ever  been  able  to  give  to  him, 
and  here,  too,  the  more  sagacious  of  the  courtiers  were  be- 
ginning to  understand,  was  the  point,  formerly  to  be  found 
in  the  magnificent  salons  of  de  Montespan,  whence  flowed 
those  impulses  and  tendencies  which  were  so  eagerly 
studied,  and  so  keenly  followed  up  by  all  who  wished  to 
keep  the  favor  of  the  King.  It  was  a  simple  creed,  that  of 

76 


the  court.  Were  the  King  pious,  then  let  all  turn  to  their 
missals  and  their  rosaries.  Were  he  rakish,  then  who* 
so  rakish  as  his  devoted  followers  ?  But.  woe  to  the  man 
who  was  rakish  when  he  should  be  praying,  or  who  pulled  a 
long  face  when  the  King  wore  a  laughing  one  !  And  thus 
it  was  that  keen  eyes  were  ever  fixed  upon  him,  and  upon 
every  influence  that  came  near  him,  so  that  the  wary 
courtier,  watching  the  first  subtle  signs  of  a  coming  change, 
might  so  order  his  conduct  as  to  seem  to  lead  rather  than 
to  follow. 

The  young  guardsman  had  scarce  ever  exchanged  a  word 
with  this  powerful  lady,  for  it  was  her  taste  to  isolate  her- 
self, and  to  appear  with  the  court  only  at  the  hours  of  de- 
votion. It  was  therefore  with  some  feelings  both  of  nerv- 
ousness and  of  curiosity  that  he  followed  his  guide  down 
the  gorgeous  corridors,  where  art  and  wealth  had  been 
strewn  with  so  lavish  a  hand.  The  lady  paused  in  front  of 
the  chamber  door,  and  turned  to  her  companion. 

"  Madame  wishes  to  speak  to  you  of  what  occurred  this 
morning,"  said  she.  **  I  should  advise  you  to  say  nothing 
to  madame  about  your  creed,  for  it  is  the  only  thing  upon 
which  her  heart  can  be  hard."  She  raised  her  finger  to 
emphasize  the  warning,  and  tapping  at  the  door,  she  pushed 
it  open.  "  I  have  brought  Captain  de  Catinat,  madame," 
said  she. 

"  Then  let  the  Captain  step  in."  The  voice  was  firm, 
and  yet  sweetly  musical. 

Obeying  the  command,  de  Catinat  found  himself  in  a 
room  which  was  no  larger  and  but  little  better  furnished 
than  that  which  was  allotted  to  his  own  use.  Yet,  though 
simple,  everything  in  the  chamber  was  scrupulously  neat 
and  clean,  betraying  the  dainty  taste  of  a  refined  woman. 
The  stamped -leather  furniture,  the  La  Savonniere  carpet, 
the  pictures  of  sacred  subjects,  exquisite  from  an  artist's 
point  of  view,  the  plain  but  tasteful  curtains,  all  left  an  im- 
pression half  religious  and  half  feminine  but  wholly  sooth- 
ing. Indeed,  the  soft  light,  the  high  white  statue  of  the 
Virgin  in  a  canopied  niche,  with  a  perfumed  red  lamp  burn- 
ing .before  it,  and  the  wooden  prie-dieu  with  the  red-edged 
F  77 


prayer-book  upon  the  top  of  it,  made  the  apartment  look 
^inore  like  a  private  chapel  than  a  fair  lady's  boudoir. 

On  each  side  of  the  empty  fireplace  was  a  little  green- 
covered  arm-chair,  the  one  for  madame  and  the  other  re- 
served for  the  use  of  the  King.  A  small  three-legged  stool 
between  them  was  heaped  with  her  work-basket  and  her  tap- 
estry. On  the  chair  which  was  farthest  from  the  door,  with 
her  back  turned  to  the  light,  madame  was  sitting  as  the 
young  officer  entered.  It  was  her  favorite  position,  and  yet 
there  were  few  women  of  her  years  who  had  so  little  reason 
to  fear  the  sun,  for  a  healthy  life  and  active  habits  had  left 
her  with  a  clear  skin  and  delicate  bloom  which  any  young 
beauty  of  the  court  might  have  envied.  Her  figure  was 
graceful  and  queenly,  her  gestures  and  pose  full  of  a  natural 
dignity,  and  her  voice,  as  he  had  already  remarked,  most 
sweet  and  melodious.  Her  face  was  handsome  rather  than 
beautiful,  set  in  a  statuesque  classical  mould,  with  broad 
white  forehead,  firm,  delicately  sensitive  mouth,  and  a  pair 
of  large  serene  gray  eyes,  earnest  and  placid  in  repose,  but 
capable  of  reflecting  the  whole  play  of  her  soul,  from  the 
merry  gleam  of  humor  to  the  quick  flash  of  righteous  anger. 
An  elevating  serenity  was,  however,  the  leading  expression 
of  her  features,  and  in  that  she  presented  the  strongest 
contrast  to  her  rival,  whose  beautiful  face  was  ever  swept 
by  the  emotion  of  the  moment,  and  who  gleamed  one  hour 
and  shadowed  over  the  next  like  a  cornfield  in  the  wind. 
In  wit  and  quickness  of  tongue  it  is  true  that  de  Montespan 
had  the  advantage,  but  the  strong  common-sense  and  the 
deeper  nature  of  the  elder  woman  might  prove  in  the  end 
to  be  the  better  weapon.  De  Catinat,  at  the  moment,  with- 
out having  time  to  notice  details,  was  simply  conscious  that 
he  was  in  the  presence  of  a  very  handsome  woman,  and  that 
her  large  pensive  eyes  were  fixed  critically  upon  him,  and 
seemed  to  be  reading  his  thoughts  as  they  had  never  been 
read  before. 

"  I  think  that  I  have  already  seen  you,  sir,  have  I  not  ?" 
"  Yes,  madame,  I  have  once  or  twice  had  the  honor  of 
attending  upon  you,  though  it  may  not  have  been  my  good- 
fortune  to  address  you." 

78 


"  My  life  is  so  quiet  and  retired  that  I  fear  that  much  of 
what  is  best  and  worthiest  at  the  court  is  unknown  to  me. 
It  is  the  curse  of  such  places  that  evil  flaunts  itself  before 
the  eye  and  cannot  be  overlooked,  while  the  good  retires  in 
its  modesty,  so  that  at  times  we  scarce  dare  hope  that  it  is 
there.  You  have  served,  monsieur  ?" 

"  Yes,  madame.  In  the  Lowlands,  on  the  Rhine,  and  in 
Canada." 

"  In  Canada  !  Ah  !  What  nobler  ambition  could  woman 
have  than  to  be  a  member  of  that  sweet  sisterhood  which 
was  founded  by  the  holy  Marie  de  Tlncarnation  and  the 
sainted  Jeanne  le  Ber  at  Montreal  ?  It  was  but  the  other 
day  that  I  had  an  account  of  them  from  Father  Godet  des 
Marais.  What  joy  to  be  one  of  such  a  body,  and  to  turn 
from  the  blessed  work  of  converting  the  heathen  to  the  even 
more  precious  task  of  nursing  back  health  and  strength 
into  those  of  God's  warriors  who  have  been  struck  down  in 
the  fight  with  Satan  !" 

It  was  strange  to  de  Catinat,  who  knew  well  the  sordid 
and  dreadful  existence  led  by  these  same  sisters,  threatened 
ever  with  misery,  hunger,  and  the  scalping -knife,  to  hear 
this  lady  at  whose  feet  lay  all  the  good  things  of  this  earth 
speaking  enviously  of  their  lot. 

"  They  are  very  good  women,"  said  he,  shortly,  remem- 
bering Mademoiselle  Nanon's  warning,  and  fearing  to 
trench  upon  the  dangerous  subject. 

"And  doubtless  you  have  had  the  privilege  also  of  seeing 
the  holy  Bishop  Laval  ?" 

"  Yes,  madame,  I  have  seen  Bishop  Laval." 

"And  I  trust  that  the  Sulpitians  still  hold  their  own 
against  the  Jesuits  ?" 

"  I  have  heard,  madame,  that  the  Jesuits  are  the  stronger 
at  Quebec,  and  the  others  at  Montreal.'' 

"  And  who  is  your  own  director,  monsieur  ?" 

De  Catinat  felt  that  the  worst  had  come  upon  him.  "  I 
have  none,  madame." 

"  Ah,  it  is  too  common  to  dispense  with  a  director,  and 
yet  I  know  not  how  I  could  guide  my  steps  in  the  difficult 

79 


path  which  I  tread  if  it  were  not  for  mine.   Who  is  your  con- 
fessor, then  ?" 

"  I  have  none.  I  am  of  the  Reformed  Church,  ma- 
dame." 

The  lady  gave  a  gesture  of  horror,  and  a  sudden  harden- 
ing showed  itself  in  mouth  and  eye.  "  What,  in  the  court 
itself,"  she  cried,  "  and  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  King's 
own  person  !" 

De  Catinat  was  lax  enough  in  matters  of  faith,  and  held 
his  creed  rather  as  a  family  tradition  than  from  any  strong 
conviction,  but  it  hurt  his  self-esteem  to  see  himself  re- 
garded as  though  he  had  confessed  to  something  that  was 
loathsome  and  unclean.  "  You  will  find,  madame,"  said  he, 
sternly,  "  that  members  of  my  faith  have  not  only  stood 
around  the  throne  of  France,  but  have  even  seated  them- 
selves upon  it." 

"  God  has  for  His  own  all-wise  purposes  permitted  it,  and 
none  should  know  it  better  than  I,  whose  grandsire,  Theo- 
dore d'Aubigny,  did  so  much  to  place  a  crown  upon  the 
head  of  the  great  Henry.  But  Henry's  eyes  were  opened 
ere  his  end  came,  and  I  pray — oh,  from  my  heart  I  pray — 
that  yours  may  be  also." 

She  rose,  and  throwing  herself  down  upon  the  prie-dieu, 
sunk  her  face  in  her  hands  for  some  few  minutes,  during 
which  the  object  of  her  devotions  stood  in  some  perplexity 
in  the  middle  of  the  room,  hardly  knowing  whether  such  an 
attention  should  be  regarded  as  an  insult  or  as  a  favor.  A 
tap  at  the  door  brought  the  lady  back  to  this  world  again, 
and  her  devoted  attendant  answered  her  summons  to  enter. 

"  The  King  is  in  the  Hall  of  Victories,  madame,"  said 
she.  "  He  will  be  here  in  five  minutes." 

"  Very  well.  Stand  outside,  and  let  me  know  when  he 
comes.  Now,  sir,"  she  continued,  when  they  were  alone 
once  more,  "you  gave  a  note  of  mine  to  the  King  this 
morning  ?" 

"  I  did,  madame." 

"  And,  as  I  understand,  Madame  de  Montespan  was  re- 
fused admittance  to  the  grand  lever  ?" 

"  She  was,  madame." 

80 


"  But  she  waited  for  the  King  in  the  passage  ?" 

"  She  did." 

"  And  wrung  from  him  a  promise  that  he  would  see  her 
to-day  ?" 

"  Yes,  madame." 

"  I  would  not  have  you  tell  me  that  which  it  may  seem  to 
you  a  breach  of  your  duty  to  tell.  But  I  am  fighting  now 
against  a  terrible  foe,  and  for  a  great  stake.  Do  you  under- 
stand me  ?" 

De  Catinat  bowed. 

"  Then  what  do  I  mean  ?" 

"  I  presume  that  what  madame  means  is  that  she  is  fight- 
ing for  the  King's  favor  with  the  lady  you  mentioned." 

"  As  Heaven  is  my  judge,  I  have  no  thought  of  myself. 
I  am  fighting  with  the  devil  for  the  King's  soul." 

"  'Tis  the  same  thing,  madame." 

The  lady  smiled.  "  If  the  King's  body  were  in  peril,  I 
could  call  on  the  aid  of  his  faithful  guards,  and  not  less  so 
now,  surely,  when  so  much  more  is  at  stake.  Tell  me,  then, 
at  what  hour  was  the  King  to  meet  the  Marquise  in  her 
room  ?" 

"At  four,  madame." 

"I  thank  you.  You  have  done  me  a  service,  and  I  shall 
not  forget  it." 

"  The  King  comes,  madame,"  said  Mademoiselle  Nanon, 
again  protruding  her  head. 

"  Then  you  must  go,  Captain.  Pass  through  the  other 
room,  and  so  into  the  outer  passage.  And  take  this.  It  is 
Bossuet's  statement  of  the  Catholic  faith.  It  has  softened 
the  hearts  of  others,  and  may  yours.  Now,  adieu  !" 

De  Catinat  passed  out  through  another  door,  and  as  he 
did  so  he  glanced  back.  The  lady  had  her  back  to  him, 
and  her  hand  was  raised  to  the  mantel-piece.  At  the  instant 
that  he  looked  she  moved  her  neck,  and  he  could  see  what 
she  was  doing.  She  was  pushing  back  the  long  hand  of  the 
cl'ock. 

Si 


CHAPTER  IX 
LE    ROI    S'AMUSE 

CAPTAIN  DE  CATINAT  had  hardly  vanished  through  the 
one  door  before  the  other  was  thrown  open  by  Mademoi- 
selle Nanon,  and  the  King  entered  the  room.  Madame  de 
Maintenon  rose  with  a  pleasant  smile  and  courtesied  deep- 
ly, but  there  was  no  answering  light  upon  her  visitor's  face, 
and  he  threw  himself  down  upon  the  vacant  arm-chair  with 
a  pouting  lip  and  a  frown  upon  his  forehead. 

"Nay,  now  this  is  a  very  bad  compliment,"  she  cried, 
with  the  gayety  which  she  could  assume  whenever  it  was 
necessary  to  draw  the  King  from  his  blacker  humors. 
"  My  poor  little  dark  room  has  already  cast  a  shadow  over 
you." 

"  Nay ;  it  is  Father  La  Chaise  and  the  Bishop  of  Meaux 
who  have  been  after  me  all  day  like  two  hounds  on  a  stag, 
with   talk  of  my  duty  and  my  position  and  my  sins,  with 
judgment  and  hell-fire  ever  at  the  end  of  their  exhortations." 
"  And  what  would  they  have  your  Majesty  do  ?" 
"  Break  the  promise  which  I  made  when  I  came  upon  the 
throne,  and  which  my  grandfather  made  before  me.     They 
wish  me  to  recall  the  Edict  of  Nantes,  and  drive  the  Hu- 
guenots from  the  kingdom." 

"  Oh,  but  your  Majesty  must  not  trouble  your  mind  about 
such  matters." 

"  You  would  not  have  me  do  it,  madame  ?" 
"  Not  if  it  is  to  be  a  grief  to  your  Majesty." 
"  You  have,  perchance,  some  soft  feeling  for  the  religion 
of  your  youth  ?" 

"  Nay,  sire  ;  I  have  nothing  but  hatred  for  heresy." 
"And  yet  you  would  not  have  them  thrust  out?'' 

82 


"  Bethink  you,  sire,  that  the  Almighty  can  Himself  in- 
cline their  hearts  to  better  things  if  He  is  sojminded,  even 
as  mine  was  inclined.  May  you  not  leave  it  in  His  hands  ?" 

"On  my  word,"  said  Louis,  brightening,  "it  is  well  put. 
I  shall  see  if  Father  La  Chaise  can  find  an  answer  to  that. 
It  is  hard  to  be  threatened  with  eternal  flames  because  one 
will  not  ruin  one's  kingdom.  Eternal  torment !  I  have 
seen  the  face  of  a  man  who  had  been  in  the  Bastille  for 
fifteen  years.  It  was  like  a  dreadful  book  with  a  scar  or  a 
wrinkle  to  mark  every  hour  of  that  death  in  life.  But 
eternity !"  He  shuddered,  and  his  eyes  were  filled  with 
the  horror  of  his  thought.  The  higher  motives  had  but 
little  power  over  his  soul,  as  those  about  him  had  long  dis- 
covered, but  he  was  ever  ready  to  wince  at  the  image  of  the 
terrors  to  come. 

"  Why  should  you  think  of  such  things,  sire  ?"  said  the 
lady,  in  her  rich,  soothing  voice.  "  What  have  you  to  fear, 
you  who  have  been  the  first  son  of  the  Church !" 

"  You  think  that  I  am  safe,  then  ?" 

"  Surely,  sire." 

"  But  I  have  erred,  and  erred  deeply.  You  have  yourself 
said  as  much." 

"  But  that  is  all  over,  sire.  Who  is  there  who  is  without 
stain  ?  You  have  turned  away  from  temptation.  Surely, 
then,  you  have  earned  your  forgiveness." 

"  I  would  that  the  Queen  were  living  once  more.  She 
would  find  me  a  better  man." 

"  I  would  that  she  were,  sire." 

"  And  she  should  know  that  it  was  to  you  that  she  owed  the 
change.  Oh,  Frangoise,  you  are  surely  my  guardian  angel, 
who  has  taken  bodily  form  !  How  can  I  thank  you  for 
what  you  have  done  for  me  !"  He  leaned  forward  and  took 
her  hand,  but  at  the  touch  a  sudden  fire  sprang  into  his 
eyes,  and  he  would  have  passed  his  other  arm  round  her 
had  she  not  risen  hurriedly  to  avoid  the  embrace. 

**  Sire !"  said  she,  with  a  rigid  face  and  one  finger  up- 
raised. 

"  You  are  right,  you  are  right,  Frangoise.  Sit  down  and 
I  will  control  myself.  Still  at  the  same  tapestry,  then  ! 

83 


My  workers  at  the  Gobelins  must  look  to  their  laurels." 
He  raised  one  border  of  the  glossy  roll,  while  she,  having 
reseated  herself,  though  not  without  a  quick  questioning 
glance  at  her  companion,  took  the  other  end  into  her  lap 
and  continued  her  work. 

"  Yes,  sire.  It  is  a  hunting  scene  in  your  forests  at  Fon- 
tiinebleau.  A  stag  of  ten  tines,  you  see,  and  the  hounds  in 
full  cry,  and  a  gallant  band  of  cavaliers  and  ladies.  Has 
your  Majesty  ridden  to-day  ?" 

"  No.  How  is  it,  Frangoise,  that  you  have  such  a  heart 
of  ice  ?" 

"  I  would  it  were  so,  sire.  Perhaps  you  have  hawked, 
then  ?" 

"  No.  But  surely  no  man's  love  has  ever  stirred  you  ! 
And  yet  you  have  been  a  wife." 

"  A  nurse,  sire,  but  never  a  wife.  See  the  lady  in  the 
park !  It  is  surely  Mademoiselle.  I  did  not  know  that  she 
f  had  come  up  from  Choisy." 

But  trie  King  was  not  to  be  distracted  from  his  subject. 

"  You  did  not  love  this  Scarron,  then  ?"  he  persisted. 
"  He  was  old,  I  have  heard,  and  as  lame  as  some  of  his 
verses." 

"  Do  not  speak  lightly  of  him,  sire.  I  was  grateful  to 
him  ;  I  honored  him  ;  I  liked  him." 

"  But  you  did  not  love  him." 

"  Why  should  you  seek  to  read  the  secrets  of  a  woman's 
heart  ?" 

"  You  did  not  love  him,  Frangoise  ?" 

"  At  least,  I  did  my  duty  towards  him." 

"  Has  that  nun's  haart  never  yet  been  touched  by  love, 
then  ?" 

"  Sire,  do  not  question  me." 

"  Has  it  never — 

"  Spare  me,  sire,  I  beg  of  you  !" 

"  But  I  must  ask,  for  my  own  peace  hangs  upon  your 
answer." 

"  Your  words  pain  me  to  the  soul."  . 

"  Have  you  never,  Frangoise,  felt  in  your  heart  some  lit- 
tle flicker  of  the  love  which  glows  in  mine  ?"  He  rose  with 

84 


his  hands  out-stretched,  a  pleading  monarch,  but  she,  with 
half-turned  head,  still  shrank  away  from  him^ 

"Be  assured  of  one  thing,  sire,"  said  she,  "that  even  if  I 
loved  you  as  no  woman  ever  loved  a  man,  yet  I  should 
rather  spring  from  that  window  on  to  the  stone  terraces  be- 
neath than  ever  by  word  or  sign  confess  as  much  to  you." 

"  And  why,  Frangoise  ?" 

"  Because,  sire,  it  is  my  highest  hope  upon  earth  that  I 
have  been  chosen  to  lift  up  your  mind  towards  loftier  things 
— that  mind  the  greatness  and  nobility  of  which  none  know 
more  than  I." 

"  And  is  my  love  so  base,  then  ?" 

"You  have  wasted  too  much  of  your  life  and  of  your 
thoughts  upon  woman's  love.  And  now,  sire,  the  years  steal 
on  and  the  day  is  coming  when  even  you  will  be  called 
upon  to  give  an  account  of  your  actions,  and  of  the  inner- 
most thoughts  of  your  heart.  I  would  see  you  spend  the 
time  that  is  left  to  you,  sire,  in  building  up  the  Church,  in 
showing  a  noble  example  to  your  subjects,  and  in  repairing 
any  evil  which  that  example  may  have  done  in  the  past." 

The  King  sunk  back  into  his  chair  with  a  groan.  "  For- 
ever the  same,"  said  he.  "  Why,  you  are  worse  than  Father 
La  Chaise  and  Bossuet." 

"  Nay,  nay,"  said  she,  gayly,  with  jthe  quick  tact  in  which 
she  never  failed.  "  I  have  wearied  you,  when  you  have 
stooped  to  honor  my  little  room  with  your  presence.  That 
is  indeed  ingratitude,  and  it  were  a  just  punishment  if  you 
were  to  leave  me  in  solitude  to-morrow,  and  so  cut  off  all 
the  light  of  my  day.  But  tell  me,  sire,  how  go  the  works  at 
Marly  ?  I  am  all  on  fire  to  know  whether  the  great  fount- 
ain will  work." 

"Yes,  the  fountain  plays  well,  but  Mansard  has  thrown 
the  right  wing  too  far  back.  I  have  made  him  a  good  ar- 
chitect, but  I  have  still  much  to  teach  him.  I  showed  him 
his  fault  on  the  plan  this  morning,  and  he  promised  to 
amend  it." 

"  And  what  will  the  change  cost,  sire  ?" 

"  Some  millions  of  livres,  but  then  the  view  will  be  much 
improved  from  the  south  side.  I  have  taken  in  another 

85 


mile  of  ground  in  that  direction,  for  there  were  a  number 
of  poor  folk  living  there,  and  their  hovels  were  far  from 
pretty." 

"  And  why  have  you  not  ridden  to-day,  sire  ?" 

"  Pah  !  it  brings  me  no  pleasure.  There  was  a  time 
when  my  blood  was  stirred  by  the  blare  of  the  horn  and 
the  rush  of  the  hoofs,  but  now  it  is  all  wearisome  to  me." 

"  And  hawking  too  ?" 

"  Yes  ;  I  shall  hawk  no  more." 

"  But,  sire,  you  must  have  amusement" 

"  What  is  so  dull  as  an  amusement  which  has  ceased  to 
amuse  ?  I  know  not  how  it  is.  When  I  was  but  a  lad,  and 
my  mother  and  I  were  driven  from  place  to  place,  with  the 
Fronde  at  war  with  us  and  Paris  in  revolt,  with  our  throne 
and  even  our  lives  in  danger,  all  life  seemed  to  be  so  bright, 
so  new,  and  so  full  of  interest.  Now  that  there  is  no 
shadow,  and  that  my  voice  is  the  first  in  France,  as  France's 
is  in  Europe,  all  is  dull  and  lacking  in  flavor.  What  use  is 
it  to  have  all  pleasure  before  me,  when  it  turns  to  worm- 
wood when  it  is  tasted  ?" 

"True  pleasure,  sire,  lies  rather  in  the  inward  life,  the 
serene  mind,  the  easy  conscience.  And  then,  as  we  grow 
older,  is  it  not  natural  that  our  minds  should  take  a  graver 
bent  ?  We  might  well  reproach  ourselves  if  it  were  not  so, 
for  it  would  show  that  we  had  not  learned  the  lesson  of 
life." 

"  It  may  be  so,  and  yet  it  is  sad  and  weary  when  nothing 
amuses.  But  who  is  there  ?" 

"  It  is  my  companion  knocking.  What  is  it,  mademoi- 
selle ?" 

"Monsieur  Corneille,  to  read  to  the  King,"  said  the 
young  lady,  opening  the  door. 

"Ah  yes,  sire;  I  know  how  foolish  is  a  woman's  tongue, 
and  so  I  have  brought  a  wiser  one  than  mine  here  to 
charm  you.  Monsieur  Racine  was  to  have  come,  but  I 
hear  that  he  has  had  a  fall  from  his  horse,  and  he  sends 
his  friend  in  his  place.  Shall  I  admit  him?" 

"  Oh,  as  you  like,  madame,  as  you  like,"  said  the  King, 
listlessly.  At  a  sign  from  Mademoiselle  Nanon  a  little 

86 


peaky  man  with  a  shrewd  petulant  face,  and  long  gray 
hair  falling  back  over  his  shoulders,  entered  the  room. 
He  bowed  profoundly  three  times,  and  then  seated  himself 
nervously  on  the  very  edge  of  the  stool,  from  which  the 
lady  had  removed  her  work-basket.  She  smiled  and 
nodded  to  encourage  the  poet,  while  the  monarch  leaned 
back  in  his  chair  with  an  air  of  resignation. 

"  Shall  it  be  a  comedy,  or  a  tragedy,  or  a  burlesque  pas- 
toral ?"  Corneille  asked,  timidly. 

"  Not  the  burlesque  pastoral,"  said  the  King,  with  de- 
cision. "  Such  things  may  be  played,  but  cannot  be  read, 
since  they  are  for  the  eye  rather  than  the  ear." 

The  poet  bowed  his  acquiescence. 

"  And  not  the  tragedy,  monsieur,"  said  Madame  de 
Maintenon,  glancing  up  from  her  tapestry.  "  The  King 
has  enough  that  is  serious  in  his  graver  hours,  and  so  I 
trust  that  you  will  use  your  talent  to  amuse  him." 

"  Ay,  let  it  be  a  comedy,"  said  Louis ;  "  I  have  not  had 
a  good  laugh  since  poor  Moliere  passed  away." 

"  Ah,  your  Majesty  has  indeed  a  fine  taste,"  cried  the 
courtier  poet.  "  Had  you  condescended  to  turn  your  own 
attention  to  poetry,  where  should  we  all  have  been  then  ?" 

Louis  smiled,  for  no  flattery  was  too  gross  to  please  him. 

"  Even  as  you  have  taught  our  generals  war  and  our 
builders  art,  so  you  would  have  set  your  poor  singers  a 
loftier  strain.  But  Mars  would  hardly  deign  to  share  the 
humbler  laurels  of  Apollo." 

"  I  have  sometimes  thought  that  I  had  some  such  pow- 
ers," answered  the  King,  complacently ;  "  though  amid  my 
toils  and  the  burdens  of  state  I  have  had,  as  you  say,  little 
time  for  the  softer  arts." 

"  But  you  have  encouraged  others  to  do  what  you  could 
so  well  have  done  yourself,  sire.  You  have  brought  out 
poets  as  the  sun  brings  out  flowers.  How  many  have  we 
not  seen — Moliere,  Boileau,  Racine,  one  greater  than  the 
other.  And  the  others,  too,  the  smaller  ones — Scarron,  so 
scurrilous  and  yet  so  witty —  Oh,  holy  Virgin  !  what  have 
I  said  ?" 

Madame  had  laid  down  her  tapestry,  and  was  staring  in 

87 


intense  indignation  at  the- poet,  who  writhed  on  his  stool 
under  the  stern  rebuke  of  those  cold  gray  eyes. 

"  I  think,  Monsieur  Corneille,  that  you  had  better  go  on 
with  your  reading,"  said  the  King,  dryly. 

"  Assuredly,  sire.     Shall  I  read  my  play  about  Darius  ?" 

"  And  who  was  Darius  ?"  asked  the  King,  whose  educa- 
tion had  been  so  neglected  by  the  crafty  policy  of  Cardinal 
Mazarin  that  he  was  ignorant  of  everything  save  what  had 
come  under  his  own  personal  observation. 

"  Darius  was  King  of  Persia,  sire." 

"  And  where  was  Persia  ?" 

"  It  is  a  kingdom  of  Asia." 

"  Is  Darius  still  King  there  ?" 

"Nay,  sire  ;  he  fought  against  Alexander  the  Great." 

"  Ah,  I  have  heard  of  Alexander.  He  was  a  famous  king 
and  general,  was  he  not  ?" 

"Like  your  Majesty,  he  both  ruled  wisely  and  led  his 
armies  victoriously." 

"  And  was  King  of  Persia,  you  say  ?" 

"  No,  sire  ;  of  Macedonia.  It  was  Darius  who  was  King 
of  Persia." 

The  King  frowned,  for  the  slightest  correction  was  of- 
fensive to  him. 

"  You  do  not  seem  very  clear  about  the  matter,  and  I 
confess  that  it  does  not  interest  me  deeply,"  said  he. 
"  Pray  turn  to  something  else." 

"  There  is  my  Pretended  Astrologer" 

"Yes,  that  will  do." 

Corneille  commenced  to  read  his  comedy,  while  Madame 
de  Maintenon's  white  and  delicate  fingers  picked  among 
the  many- colored  silks  which  she  was  weaving  into  her 
tapestry.  From  time  to  time  she  glanced  across,  first  at 
the  clock  and  then  at  the  King,  who  was  leaning  back, 
with  his  lace  handkerchief  thrown  over  his  face.  It  was 
twenty  minutes  to  four  now,  but  she  knew  that -she  had  put 
it  back  half  an  hour,  and  that  the  true  time  was  ten  minutes 
past. 

"  Tut !  tut !"  cried  the  King,  suddenly.  "There  is  some- 
thing amiss  there.  The  second  last  line  has  a  limp  in  it, 


surely."  It  was  one  of  his  foibles  to  pose  as  a  critic,  and 
the  wise  poet  would  fall  in  with  his  corrections,  however 
unreasonable  they  might  be. 

"  Which  line,  sire  ?  It  is  indeed  an  advantage  to  have 
one's  faults  made  clear." 

"Read  the  passage  again." 

t4  Et  si,  quand  je  lui  dis  le  secret  de  mon  ame, 
Avec  moins  de   rigueur  elle  cut  traite  ma  flamme, 
Dans  ma  £35011  de  vivre,  et  suivant  mon  humeur, 
Une  autre  eut  eu  bientot  le  present  de  mon  coeur." 


"  Yes,  the  third  line  has  a  foot  too  many.  Do  you  not 
remark  it,  madame  ?" 

"  No ;  but  I  fear  that  I  should  make  a  poor  critic." 

"Your  Majesty  is  perfectly  right,"  said  Corneille,  un- 
blushingly.  "  I  shall  mark  the  passage,  and  see  that  it  is 
corrected." 

"  I  thought  that  it  was  wrong.  If  I  do  not  write  myself, 
you  can  see  that  I  have  at  least  got  the  correct  ear.  A 
false  quantity  jars  upon  me.  It  is  the  same  in  music. 
Although  I  know  little  of  the  matter,  I  can  tell  a  discord 
where  Lully  himself  would  miss  it.  I  have  often  shown 
him  errors  of  the  sort  in  his  operas,  and  I  have  always  con- 
vinced him  that  I  was  right." 

"  I  can  readily  believe  it,  your  Majesty."  Corneille  had 
picked  up  his  book  again,  and  was  about  to  resume  his 
reading,  when  there  came  a  sharp  tap  at  the  door. 

"  It  is  his  highness  the  minister,  Monsieur  de  Louvois," 
said:  Mademoiselle  Nanon. 

"Admit  him,"  answered  Louis.  "Monsieur  Corneille,  I 
am  obliged  to  you  for  what  you  have  read,  and  I  regret  that 
an  affair  of  state  will  now  interrupt  your  comedy.  Some 
other  day  perhaps  I  may  have  the  pleasure  pf  hearing  the 
rest  of  it."  He  smiled  in  the  gracious  fashion  which  made 
all  who  came  within  his  personal  influence  forget  his  faults 
and  remember  him  only  as  the  impersonation  of  dignity 
and  of  courtesy. 

The  poet,  with  his  book  under  his  arm,  slipped  out,  while 


the  famous  minister,  tall,  heavily  wigged,  eagle-nosed,  and 
commanding,  came  bowing  into  the  little  room.  His  man- 
ner was  that  of  exaggerated  politeness,  but  his  haughty 
face  marked  only  too  plainly  his  contempt  for  such  a 
chamber  and  for  the  lady  who  dwelt  there.  She  was  well 
aware  of  the  feeling  with  which  he  regarded  her,  but  her 
perfect  self-command  prevented  her  from  ever  by  word  or 
look  returning  his  dislike. 

"  My  apartments  are  indeed  honored  to-day,"  said  she, 
rising  with  out -stretched  hand.  "Can  monsieur  conde- 
scend to  a  stool,  since  I  have  no  fitter  seat  to  offer  you  in 
this  little  doll's  house  ?  But  perhaps  I  am  in  the  way,  if 
you  wish  to  talk  of  state  affairs  to  the  King.  I  can  easily 
withdraw  into  my  boudoir." 

"No,  no,  nothing  of  the  kind,  madame,"  cried  Louis. 
"  It  is  my  wish  that  you  should  remain  here.  What  is  it, 
Louvois  ?" 

"A  messenger  arrived  from  England  with  despatches, 
your  Majesty,"  answered  the  minister,  his  ponderous  figure 
balanced  upon  the  three-legged  stool.  "  There  is  very  ill 
feeling  there,  and  there  is  some  talk  of  a  rising.  The  letter 
from  Lord  Sunderland  wished  to  know  whether  in  case  the 
Dutch  took  the  side  of  the  malcontents,  the  King  might 
look  to  France  for  help.  Of  course,  knowing  your  Majesty's 
mind,  I  answered  unhesitatingly  that  he  might" 

"  You  did  what !" 

"  I  answered,  sire,  that  he  might." 

King  Louis  flushed  with  anger,  and  he  caught  up  the 
tongs  from  the  grate  with  a  motion  as  though  he  would 
have  struck  his  minister  with  them.  Madame  sprang  from 
her  chair,  and  laid  her  hand  upon  his  arm  with  a  soothing 
gesture.  He  threw  down  the  tongs  again,  but  his  eyes  still 
flashed  with  passion  as  he  turned  them  upon  Louvois. 

"  How  dared  you  !"  he  cried. 

"  But,  sire—" 

"  How  dared  you,  I  say  !  What !  You  venture  to  answer 
such  a  message  without  consulting  me !  How  often  am  I 
to  tell  you  that  I  am  the  state — I  alone ;  that  all  is  to  come 
from  me ;  and  that  I  am  answerable  to  God  only !  What 

90 


are  you  ?     My  instrument !  my  tool !     And  you  venture  to 
act  without  my  authority !" 

"  I  thought  that  I  knew  your  wishes,  sire,"  stammered 
Louvois,  whose  haughty  manner  had  quite  deserted  him, 
and  whose  face  was  as  white  as  the  ruffles  of  his  shirt. 

"  You  are  not  there  to  think  about  my  wishes,  sir.  You 
are  there  to  consult  them  and  to  obey  them.  Why  is  it 
that  I  have  turned  away  from  my  old  nobility,  and  have 
committed  the  affairs  of  my  kingdom  to  men  whose  names 
have  never  been  heard  of  in  the  history  of  France,  such 
men  as  Colbert  and  yourself?  I  have  been  blamed  for  it. 
There  was  the  Due  de  St.  Simon,  who  said,  the  last  time 
that  he  was  at  the  court,  that  it  was  a  bourgeois  govern- 
ment. So  it  is.  But  I  wished  it  to  be  so,  because  I  knew 
that  the  nobles  have  a  way  of  thinking  for  themselves,  and 
I  ask  for  no  thought  but  mine  in  the  governing  of  France. 
But  if  my  bourgeois  are  to  receive  messages  and  give  an- 
swers to  embassies,  then  indeed  I  am  to  be  pitied.  I  have 
marked  you  of  late,  Louvois.  You  have  grown  beyond  your 
station.  You  take  too  much  upon  yourself.  See  to  it  that 
I  have  not  again  to  complain  to  you  upon  this  matter." 

The  humiliated  minister  sat  as  one  crushed,  with  his 
chin  sunk  upon  his  breast.  The  King  muttered  and 
frowned  for  a  few  minutes,  but  the  cloud  cleared  gradually 
from  his  face,  for  his  fits  of  anger  were  usually  as  short  as 
they  were  fierce  and  sudden. 

"You  will  detain  that  messenger,  Louvois,"  he  said  at 
last,  in  a  calm  voice. 

"Yes,  sire." 

"  And  we  shall  see  at  the  council  meeting  to-morrow  that 
a  fitting  reply  be  sent  to  Lord  Sunderland.  It  would  be 
best  perhaps  not  to  be  too  free  with  our  promises  in  the 
matter.  These  English  have  ever  been  a  thorn  in  our 
sides.  If  we  could  leave  them  among  their  own  fogs  with 
such  a  quarrel  as  would  keep  them  busy  for  a  few  years, 
then  indeed  we  might  crush  this  Dutch  prince  at  our 
leisure.  Their  last  civil  war  lasted  ten  years,  and  their 
next  may  do  as  much.  We  could  carry  our  frontier  to  the 
Rhine  long  ere  that.  Eh,  Louvois  ?" 

91 


"  Your  armies  are  ready,  sire,  on  the  day  that  you  give 
the  word." 

"  But  war  is  a  costly  business.  I  do  not  wish  to  have  to 
sell  the  court  plate,  as  we  did  the  other  day.  How  are  the 
public  funds  ?" 

"We  are  not  very  rich,  sire.  But  there  is  one  way  in 
^vhich  money  may  very  readily  be  gained.  There  was 
some  talk  this  morning  about  the  Huguenots,  and  whether 
they  should  dwell  any  longer  in  this  Catholic  kingdom. 
Now,  if  they  were  driven  out,  and  if  their  property  were 
taken  by  the  state,  then  indeed  your  Majesty  would  at 
once  become  the  richest  monarch  in  Christendom." 

"  But  you  were  against  it  this  morning,  Louvois  ?" 

"  I  had  not  had  time  to  think  of  it,  sire." 

"  You  mean  that  Father  La  Chaise  and  the  Bishop  had 
not  had  time  to  get  at  you,"  said  Louis,  sharply.  "  Ah, 
Louvois,  I  have  not  lived  with  a  court  round  me  all  these 
years  without  learning  how  things  are  done.  It  is  a  word 
to  him,  and  so  on  to  another,  and  so  to  a  third,  and  so  to 
the  King.  When  my  good  fathers  of  the  Church  have  set 
themselves  to  bring  anything  to  pass,  I  see  traces  of  them 
at  every  turn,  as  one  traces  a  mole  by  the  dirt  which  it  has 
thrown  up.  But  I  will  not  be  moved  against  my  own 
reason  to  do  wrong  to  those  who,  however  mistaken  they 
may  be,  are  still  the  subjects  whom  God  has  given  me." 

"  I  would  not  have  you  do  so,  sire,"  cried  Louvois,  in 
confusion.  The  King's  accusation  had  been  so  true  that 
he  had  been  unable  at  the  moment  even  to  protest. 

"  I  know  but  one  person,"  continued  Louis,  glancing 
across  at  Madame  de  Maintenon,  "  who  has  no  ambitions, 
who  desires  neither  wealth  nor  preferment,  and  who  can 
therefore  never  be  bribed  to  sacrifice  my  interests.  That 
is  why  I  value  that  person's  opinions  so  highly."  He 
smiled  at  the  lady  as  he  spoke,  while  his  minister  cast  a 
glance  at  her  which  showed  the  jealousy  which  ate  into  his 
soul. 

"  It  was  my  duty  to  point  this  out  to  you,  sire,  not  as  a 
suggestion,  but  as  a  possibility,"  said  he,  rising.  "  I  fear 
that  I  have  already  taken  up  too  much  of  your  Majesty's 

92 


time,  and  I  shall  now  withdraw."  Bowing  slightly  to  the 
lady,  and  profoundly  to  the  monarch,  he  walkjed  from  the 
room. 

"Louvois  grows  intolerable,"  said  the  King.  "I  know 
not  where  his  insolence  will  end.  Were  it  not  that  he  is 
an  excellent  servant,  I  should  have  sent  him  from  the  court 
before  this.  He  has  his  own  opinion  upon  everything.  It 
was  but  the  other  day  that  he  would  have  it  that  I  was 
wrong  when  I  said  that  one  of  the  windows  in  the  Trianon 
was  smaller  than  any  of  the  others.  It  was  the  same  size, 
said  he.  I  brought  Le  Notre  with  his  measures,  and  of 
course  the  window  was,  as  I  had  said,  too  small.  But  I 
see  by  your  clock  that  it  is  four  o'clock.  I  must  go." 

"  My  clock,  sire,  is  half  an  hour  slow." 

"Half  an  hour!"  The  King  looked  dismayed  for  an 
instant,  and  then  be^n  to  laugh.  "  Nay,  in  that  case,"  said 
he,  "  I  had  best  remain  where  I  am,  for  it  is  too  late  to 
go,  and  I  can  say  with  a  clear  conscience  that  it  was  the 
clock's  fault  rather  than  mine." 

"  I  trust  that  it  was  nothing  of  very  great  importance, 
sire,"  said  the  lady,  with  a  look  of  demure  triumph  in  her 
eyes. 

"  By  no  means." 

"  No  state  affair  ?" 

"  No,  no ;  it  was  only  that  it  was  the  hour  at  which  I 
had  intended  to  rebuke  the  conduct  of  a  presumptuous 
person.  But  perhaps  it  is  better  as  it  is.  My  absence 
will  in  itself  convey  my  message,  and  in.  such  a  sort  that  I 
trust  I  may  never  see  that  person's  face  more  at  my  court. 
But,  ah,  what  is  this  ?" 

The  door  had  been  flung  open,  and  Madame  de  Montes- 
pan,  beautiful  and  furious,  was  standing  before  them. 
G  93 


CHAPTER    X 
AN    ECLIPSE    AT   VERSAILLES 

MADAME  DE^TAINTENON  was  a  woman  who  was  always 
full  of  self-restraint  and  of  cool  resource.  She  had  risen 
in  an  instant,  with  an  air  as  if  she  had  at  last  seen  the  wel- 
come guest  for  whom  she  had  pined  in  vain.  With  a  frank 
smile  of  greeting,  she  advanced  with  out-stretched  hand. 

"This  is  indeed  a  pleasure,"  said  sh$. 

But  Madame  de  Montespan  was  very  angry,  so  angry 
that  she  was  evidently  making  strong  efforts  to  keep  her- 
self within  control,  and  to  avoid  breaking  into  a  furious 
outburst.  Her  face  was  very  pale,  her  lips  compressed, 
and  her  blue  eyes  had  the  set  stare  and  the  cold  glitter  of 
a  furious  woman.  So  for  an  instant  they  faced  each  other, 
the  one  frowning,  the  other  smiling,  two  of  the  most  beauti- 
ful and  queenly  women  in  France.  Then  de  Montespan,  dis- 
regarding her  rival's  out-stretched  hand,  turned  towards  the 
King,  who  had  been  looking  at  her  with  a  darkening  face. 

"  I  fear  that  I  intrude,  sire." 

"  Your  entrance,  madame,  is  certainly  somewhat  abrupt." 

"  I  must  crave  pardon  if  it  is  so.  Since  this  lady  has 
been  the  governess  of  my  children  I  have  been  in  the  habit 
of  coming  into  her  room  unannounced." 

"  As  far  as  I  am  concerned,  you  are  most  welcome  to  do 
so,"  said  her  rival,  with  perfect  composure. 

"  I  confess  that  I  had  not  even  thought  it  necessary  to 
ask  your  permission,  madame,"  the  other  answered,  coldly. 

"Then  you  shall  certainly  do  so  in  the  future,  madame," 
said  the  King,  sternly.  "  It  is  my  express  order  to  you 
that  every  possible  respect  is  to  be  shown  in  every  way  to 
this  lady." 

94 


"  Oh,  to  this  lady !"  with  a  wave  of  her  hand  in  her  di- 
rection. "Your  Majesty's  commands  are  gf  course  our 
laws.  But  I  must  remember  that  it  is  this  lady,  for  some- 
times one  may  get  confused  as  to  which  name  it  is  that 
your  Majesty  has  picked  out  for  honor.  To-day  it  is  de 
Maintenon  ;  yesterday  it  was  Fontanges  ;  to-morrow —  Ah, 
well,  who  can  say  who  it  may  be  to-morrow  ?" 

She  was  superb  in  her  pride  and  her  fearlessness  as  she 
stood,  with  her  sparkling  blue  eyes  and  her  heaving  bosom, 
looking  down  upon  her  royal  lover.  Angry  as  he  was,  his 
gaze  lost  something  of  its  sternness  as  it  rested  upon  her 
round  full  throat  and  the  delicate  lines  of  her  shapely  shoul- 
ders. There  was  something  very  becoming  in  her  passion, 
in  the  defiant  pose  of  her  dainty  head,  and  the  magnificent 
scorn  with  which  she  glanced  at  her  rival. 

"  There  is  nothing  to  be  gained,  madame,  by  being  inso- 
lent,* said  he. 

"  Nor  is  it  my  custom,  sire." 

"  And  yet  I  find  your  words  so." 

"  Truth  is  always  mistaken  for  insolence,  sire,  at  the  court 
of  France." 

"We  have  had  enough  of  this." 

"  A  very  little  truth  is  enough." 

"  You  forget  yourself,  madame.  I  beg  that  you  will  leave 
the  room." 

"  I  must  first  remind  your  Majesty  that  I  was  so  far  hon- 
ored as  to  have  an  appointment  this  afternoon.  At  four 
o'clock  I  had  your  royal  promise  that  you  would  come  to 
me.  I  cannot  doubt  that  your  Majesty  will  keep  that  prom- 
ise in  spite  of  the  fascinations  which  you  may  find  here." 

"  I  should  have  come,  madame,  but  the  clock,  as  you  may 
observe,  is  half  an  hour  slow,  and  the  time  had  passed  be- 
fore I  was  aware  of  it." 

"  I  beg,  sire,  that  you  will  not  let  that  distress  you.  I  am 
returning  to  my  chamber,  and  five  o'clock  will  suit  me  as 
well  as  four." 

"  I  thank  you,  madame,  but  I  have  not  found  this  inter- 
view so  pleasant  that  I  should  seek  another." 

"  Then  your  Majesty  will  not  come  ?" 

95 


"  I  should  prefer  not." 

"  In  spite  of  your  promise  !" 

"  Madame  !" 

"  You  will  break  your  word  !" 

"Silence,  madame;  this  is  intolerable." 

"It  is  indeed  intolerable!"  cried  the  angry  lady,  throw- 
ing all  discretion  to  the  winds.  "  Oh,  I  am  not  afraid  of 
you,  sire.  I  have  loved  you,  but  I  have  never  feared  you. 
I  leave  you  here.  I  leave  you  with  your  conscience  and 
your — your  lady  confessor.  But  one  word  of  truth  you 
shall  hear  before  I  go.  You  have  been  false  to  your  wife, 
and  you  have  been  false  to  your  mistress,  but  it  is  only  now 
that  I  find  that  you  can  be  false  also  to  your  word."  She 
swept  him  an  indignant  courtesy,  and  glided,  with  head 
erect,  out  of  the  room. 

The  King  sprang  from  his  chair  as  if  he  had  been  stung. 
Accustomed  as  he  was  to  his  gentle  little  wife,  and  the  even 
gentler  La  Valliere,  such  language  as  this  had  never  before 
intruded  itself  upon  the  royal  ears.  It  was  like  a  physical 
blow  to  him.  He  felt  stunned,  humiliated,  bewildered,  by 
so  unwonted  a  sensation.  What  odor  was  this  which  min- 
gled for  the  first  time  with  the  incense  amid  which  he  lived  ? 
And  then  his  whole  soul  rose  up  in  anger  at  her,  at  the 
woman  who  had  dared  to  raise  her  voice  against  him. 
That  she  should  be  jealous  of  and  insult  another  woman, 
that  was  excusable.  It  was,  in  fact,  an  indirect  compliment 
to  himself.  But  that  she  should  turn  upon  him,  as  if  they 
were  merely  man  and  woman,  instead  of  monarch  and  sub- 
ject, that  was  too  much.  He  gave  an  inarticulate  cry  of 
rage,  and  rushed  to  the  door. 

"  Sire !"  Madame  de  Maintenon,  who  had  watched 
keenly  the  swift  play  of  his  emotions  over  his  expressive 
face,  took  two  quick  steps  forward,  and  laid  her  hand  upon 
his  arm. 

"  I  will  go  after  her." 

"  And  why,  sire  ?" 

"  To  forbid  her  the  court." 

"  But,  sire—" 

"  You  heard  her  !     It  is  infamous  !     I  shall  go." 

96 


"  But,  sire,  could  you  not  write  ?" 

"  No,  no ;  I  shall  see  her."     He  pulled  ope^n  the  door. 

"  Oh,  sire,  be  firm,  then  !"  It  was  with  an  anxious  face 
that  she  watched  him  start  off,  walking  rapidly,  with  angry 
gestures,  down  the  corridor.  Then  she  turned  back,  and 
dropping  upon  her  knees  on  the  prie-dieu,  bowed  her  head 
in  prayer  for  the  King,  for  herself,  and  for  France. 

De  Catinat,  the  guardsman,  had  employed  himself  in 
showing  his  young  friend  from  over  the  water  all  the  won- 
ders of  the  great  palace,  which  the  other  had  examined 
keenly,  and  had  criticised  or  admired  with  an  independence 
of  judgment  and  a  native  correctness  of  taste  natural  to  a 
man  whose  life  had  been  spent  in  freedom  amid  the  noblest 
works  of  nature.  Grand  as  were  the  mighty  fountains  and 
the  artificial  cascades,  they  had  no  overwhelming  effect  on 
one  who  had  travelled  up  from  Erie  to  Ontario,  and  had 
seen  the  Niagara  River  hurl  itself  over  its  precipice,  nor 
were  the4ong  level  swards  so  very  large  to  eyes  which  had 
rested  upon  the  great  plains  of  the  Dakotas.  The  building 
itself,  however,  its  extent,  its  height,  and  the  beauty  of  its 
stone,  filled  him  with  astonishment. 

"  I  must  bring  Ephraim  Savage  here,"  he  kept  repeat- 
ing. "  He  would  never  believe  else  that  there  was  one 
house  in  the  world  which  would  weigh  more  than  all  Bos- 
ton and  New  York  put  together." 

De  Catinat  had  arranged  that  the  American  should  re- 
main with  his  friend  Major  de  Brissac,  as  the  time  had 
come  round  for  his  own  second  turn  of  guard.  He  had 
hardly  stationed  himself  in  the  corridor  when  he  was  as- 
tonished to  see  the  King,  without  escort  or  attendants, 
walking  swiftly  down  the  passage.  His  delicate  face  was 
disfigured  with  anger,  and  his  mouth  was  set  grimly,  like- 
that  of  a  man  who  had  taken  a  momentous  resolution. 

"  Officer  of  the  guard,"  said  he,  shortly. 

"Yes,  sire." 

"What!  You  again,  Captain  de  Catinat?  You  have  not 
been  on  duty  since  morning  ?" 

"  No,  sire.     It  is  my  second  guard." 

"  Very  good.     I  wish  your  assistance." 

97 


"  I  am  at  your  command,  sire." 

"  Is  there  a  subaltern  here  ?" 

"  Lieutenant  de  la  Tremouille  is  at  the  side  guard." 

"Very  well.     You  will  place  him  in  command." 

"  Yes,  sire." 

"You  will  yourself  go  to  Monsieur  de  Vivonne.  You 
know  his  apartments  ?" 

"  Yes,  sire." 

.     "If  he  is  not  there,  you  must  go  and  seek  him.     Wher- 
ever he  is,  you  must  find  him  within  the  hour." 

"Yes,  sire." 

"You  will  give  him  an  order  from  me.  At  six  o'clock 
he  is  to  be  in  his  carriage  at  the  east  gate  of  the  palace. 
His  sister,  Madame  de  Montespan,  will  await  him  there, 
and  he  is  charged  by  me  to  drive  her  to  the  Chateau  of 
Petit  Bourg.  You  will  tell  him  that  he  is  answerable  to  me 
for  her  arrival  there." 

"Yes,  sire."  De  Catinat  raised  his  sword  in  salute,  and 
started  upon  his  mission. 

The  King  passed  on  down  the  corridor,  and  opened  a 
door  which  led  him  into  a  magnificent  anteroom,  all  one 
blaze  of  mirrors  and  gold,  furnished  to  a  marvel  with  the 
most  delicate  ebony  and  silver  suite,  on  a  deep  red  carpet 
of  Aleppo,  as  soft  and  yielding  as  the  moss  of  a  forest.  In 
keeping  with  the  furniture  was  the  sole  occupant  of  this 
stately  chamber  —  a  little  negro  boy  in  a  livery  of  velvet 
picked  out  with  silver  tinsel,  who  stood  as  motionless  as  a 
small  swart  statuette  against  the  door  which  faced  that 
through  which  the  King  entered. 

"  Is  your  mistress  there  ?" 

"  She  has  just  returned,  sire." 

"  I  wish  to  see  her." 

"Pardon,  sire,  but  she — " 

"  Is  every  one  to  thwart  me  to-day  ?"  snarled  the  King, 
and  taking  the  little  page  by  his  velvet  collar,  he  hurled 
him  to  the  other  side  of  the  room.  Then,  without  knock- 
ing, h3  opened  the  door,  and  passed  on  into  the  lady's 
boudoir. 

It  was  a  large  and  lofty  room,  very  different  to  that  from 


which  he  had  just  come.  Three  long  windows  from  ceiling 
to  floor  took  up  one  side,  and  through  the  delicate  pink- 
tinted  blinds  the  evening  sun  cast  a  subdued  and  dainty 
light.  Great  gold  candelabra  glittered  between  the  mir- 
rors upon  the  wall,  and  Le  Brun  had  expended  all  his 
wealth  of  coloring  upon  the  ceiling,  where  Louis  himself,  in 
the  character  of  Jove,  hurled  down  his  thunder-bolts  upon  a 
writhing  heap  of  Dutch  and  Palatine  Titans.  Pink  was 
the  prevailing  tone  in  tapestry,  carpet,  and  furniture,  so 
that  the  whole  room  seemed  to  shine  with  the  sweet  tints 
of  the  inner  side  of  a  shell,  and  when  lit  up,  as  it  was  then, 
formed  such  a  chamber  as  some  fairy),  hero  might  have 
built  up  for  his  princess.  At  the  farther  side,  prone  upon 
an  ottoman,  her  face  buried  in  the  cushion,  her  beautiful 
white  arms  thrown  over  it,  the  rich  coils  of  her  brown  hair 
hanging  in  disorder  across  the  long  curve  of  her  ivory  neck, 
lay,  like  a  drooping  flower,  the  woman  whom  he  had  come 
to  discard. 

At  the  sound  of  the  closing  door  she  had  glanced  up,  and 
then,  at  the  sight  of  the  King,  she  sprang  to  her  feet  and 
ran  towards  him,  her  hands  out,  her  blue  eyes  bedimmed 
with  tears,  her  whole  beautiful  figure  softening  into  woman- 
liness and  humility. 

"  Ah,  sire,"  she  cried,  with  a  pretty  little  sunburst  of  joy 
through  her  tears,  "  then  I  have  wronged  you !  I  have 
wronged  you  cruelly!  You  have  kept  your  promise.  You 
were  but  trying  my  faith!  Oh,  how  could  I  have  said  such 
words  to  you — how  could  I  pain  that  noble  heart !  But 
you  have  come  after  me  to  tell  me  that  you  have  forgiven 
me !"  She  put  her  arms  forward  with  the  trusting  air  of  a 
pretty  child  who  claims  an  embrace  as  her  due,  but  the 
King  stepped  swiftly  back  from  her,  and  warned  her  away 
from  him  with  an  angry  gesture. 

"All  is  over  forever  between  us,"  he  cried,  harshly. 
"  Your  brother  will  await  you  at  the  east  gate  at  six  o'clock, 
and  it  is  my  command  that  you  wait  there  until  you  receive 
my  further  orders." 

She  staggered  back  as  if  he  had  struck  her.  "Leave 
you !"  she  cried. 

99 


"  You  must  leave  the  court." 

"  The  court !  Ay,  willingly,  this  instant !  But  you  !  Ah, 
sire,  you  ask  what  is  impossible." 

"  I  do  not  ask,  madame  ;  I  order.  Since  you  have  learned 
to  abuse  your  position,  your  presence  has  become  intoler- 
able. The  united  kings  of  Europe  have  never  dared  to 
speak  to  me  as  you  have  spoken  to-day.  You  have  insulted 
me  in  my  own  palace — me,  Louis,  the  King.  Such  things 
are  not  done  twice,  madame.  Your  insolence  has  carried 
you  too  far  this  time.  You  thought  that  because  I  was  for- 
bearing, I  was  therefore  weak.  It  appeared  to  you  that  if 
you  only  humored  .me  one  moment,  you  might  treat  me  as  if 
I  were  your  equal  the  next,  for  that  this  poor  puppet  of  a 
king  could  always  be  bent  this  way  or  that.  You  see  your 
mistake  now.  At  six  o'clock  you  leave  Versailles  forever." 
His  eyes  flashed,  and  his  small  upright  figure  seemed  to 
swell  in  the  violence  of  his  indignation,  while  she  leaned 
away  from  him,  one  hand  across  her  eyes  and  one  thrown 
forward,  as  if  to  screen  her  from  that  angry  gaze. 

"  Oh,  I  have  been  wicked !"  she  cried.  "  I  know  it,  I 
know  it !" 

"  I  am  glad,  madame,  that  you  have  the  grace  to  acknowl- 
edge it." 

"  How  could  I  speak  to  you  so !  How  could  I !  Oh, 
that  some  blight  may  come  upon  this  unhappy  tongue  !  I, 
who  have  had  nothing  but  good  from  you  !  I  to  insult  you, 
who  are  the  author  of  all  my  happiness  !  Oh,  sire,  forgive 
me,  forgive  me ;  for  pity's  sake  forgive  me  !" 

Louis  was  by  nature  a  kind-hearted  man.  H  is  feelings  were 
touched,  and  his  pride  also  was  flattered  by  the  abasement 
of  this  beautiful  and  haughty  woman.  His  other  favorites 
had  been  amiable  to  all,  but  this  one  was  so  proud,  so  un- 
yielding, until  she  felt  his  master-hand.  His  face  softened 
somewhat  in  its  expression  as  he  glanced  at  her,  but  he  shook 
his  head,  and  his  voice  was  as  firm  as  ever  as  he  answered. 

"  It  is  useless,  madame,"  said  he.  "  I  have  thought  this 
matter  over  for  a  long  time,  and  your  madness  to-day  has 
only  hurried  what  must  in  any  case  have  taken  place.  You 
must  leave  the  palace." 

100 


AT  six  O'CLOCK  YOU  LEAVE  VERSAILLES  FOREVER 


"  I  will  leave  the  palace.  Say  only, that  you  forgive  me. 
Oh,  sire,  I  cannot  bear  'your  aoger  It  'orushiis;  \v$  down. 
I  am  not  strong  enough.  Jt  is  not  banishment,  it  is  death 
to  which  you  sentence  me.  Think  of  our  long  years  of 
love,  sire,  and  say  that  you  forgive  me.  I  have  given  up  all 
for  your  sake — husband,  honor,  everything.  Oh,  will  you 
not  give  your  anger  up  for  mine  ?  My  God,  he  weeps  !  Oh, 
I  am  saved,  I  am  saved  !" 

"No,  no,  madame,"  cried  the  King,  dashing  his  hand 
across  his  eyes.  "  You  see  the  weakness  of  the  man,  but 
you  shall  also  see  the  firmness  of  the  King.  As  to  your 
"insults  to-day,  I  forgive  them  freely,  if  that  will  make  you 
more  happy  in  your  retirement.  But*  I  owe  a  duty  to  my 
subjects  also,  and  that  duty  is  to  set  them  an  example.  We 
have  thought  too  little  of  such  things.  But  a  time  has  come 
when  it  is  necessary  to  review  our  past  life,  and  to  prepare 
for  that  which  is  to  come." 

"  Ah,  sire,  you  pain  me.  You  are  not  yet  in  the  prime 
of  your  years,  and  you  speak  as  if  old  age  were  upon  you. 
In  a  score  of  years  from  now  it  may  be  time  for  folk  to  say 
that  age  has  made  a  change  in  your  life." 

The  King  winced.     "  Who  say  so  ?"  he  cried,  angrily. 

"  Oh,  sire,  it  slipped  from  me  unawares.  Think  no  more 
of  it.  Nobody  says  so.  Nobody." 

"  You  are  hiding  something  from  me.  Who  is  it  who 
says  this  ?" 

"  Oh,  do  not  ask  me,  sire." 

"  You  said  that  it  was  reported  that  I  had  changed  my 
life  not  through  religion,  but  through  stress  of  years.  Who 
said  so  ?" 

"Oh,  sire,  it  was  but  foolish  court  gossip,  all  unworthy  of 
your  attention.  It  was  but  the  empty  common  talk  of  cavaliers 
who  had  nothing  else  to  say  to  gain  a  smile  from  their  ladies.'' 

"  The  common  talk !"  Louis  flushed  crimson.  "  Have 
I,  then,  grown  so  aged  ?  You  have  known  me  for  nearly 
twenty  years.  Do  you  see  such  changes  in  me  ?" 

"  To  me,  sire,  you  are  as  pleasing  and  as  gracious  as 
when  you  first  won  the  heart  of  Mademoiselle  Tonnay-Cha- 
rente." 

1 01 


The  King, emHed -as  ;he; looked  at  the  beautiful  woman 
before  .tim.,*;  ?  ,'•' '.  •»•  ' -  •    .:.*•«**• 

"  In  very  truth,"  said  he,  "  I  can  say  that  there  has  been 
no  such  great  change  in  Mademoiselle  Tonnay  Charente 
either.     But  still  it  is  best  that  we  should  part,  Frangoise." 
"  If  it  will  add  aught  to  your  happiness,  sire,  I  shall  go 
through  it,  be  it  to  my  death." 
"  Now  that  is  the  proper  spirit." 

"You  have  but  to  name  the  place,  sire — Petit  Bourg, 
Chargny,  or  my  own  convent  of  St.  Joseph  in  the  Faubourg 
St.  Germain.  What  matter  where  the  flower  withers,  when 
once  the  sun  has  forever  turned  from  it?  At  least  the  past 
is  my  own,  and  I  shall  live  in  the  remembrance  of  the  days 
when  none  had  come  between  us,  and  when  your  sweet  love 
was  all  my  own.  Be  happy,  sire,  be  happy,  and  think  no 
more  of  what  I  said  about  the  foolish  gossip  of  the  court. 
Your  life  lies  in  the  future.  Mine  is  in  the  past.  Adieu, 
dear  sire,  adieu !"  She  threw  forward  her  arms,  her  eyes 
dimmed  over,  and  she  would  have  fallen  had  Louis  not 
sprung  forward  and  caught  her  in  his  arms.  Her  beautiful 
head  drooped  upon  his  shoulder,  her  breath  was  warm  upon 
his  cheek,  and  the  subtle  scent  of  her  hair  was  in  his  nostrils. 
His  arm,  as  he  held  her,  rose  and  fell  with  her  bosom,  and 
he  felt  her  heart,  beneath  his  hand,  fluttering  like  a  caged 
bird.  Her  broad  white  throat  was  thrown  back,  her  eyes 
almost  closed,  her  lips  just  parted  enough  to  show  the  line 
of  pearly  teeth,  her  beautiful  face  not  three  inches  from  his 
own.  And  then  suddenly  the  eyelids  quivered,  and  the 
great  blue  eyes  looked  up  at  him,  lovingly,  appealingly,  half 
deprecating,  half  challenging,  her  whole  soul  in  a  glance. 
Did  he  move  ?  or  was  it  she  ?  Who  could  tell  ?  But  their 
lips  had  met  in  a  long  kiss,  and  then  in  another,  and  plans 
and  resolutions  were  streaming  away  from  Louis  like  au^ 
tumn  leaves  in  the  west  wind. 

"Then  I  am  not  to  go!  You  would  not  have  the  heart 
to  send  me  away,  would  you  ?" 

"  No,  no ;  but  you  must  not  annoy  me,  Fran9oise." 
"  I  had  rather  die  than  cause  you  an  instant  of  grief.- 
Oh,  sire,  I  have  seen  so  little  of  you  lately!    And  I  love 

102 


you  so !  It  has  maddened  me.  And  then  that  dreadful 
woman — " 

"  Who,  then  ?" 

"Oh,  I  must  not  speak  against  her.  I  will  be  civil  for 
your  sake  even  to  her,  the  widow  of  old  Scarron." 

"Yes,  yes,  you  must  be  civil.  I  cannot  have  any  un- 
pleasantness." 

"  But  you  will  stay  with  me,  sire  ?"  Her  supple  arms 
coiled  themselves  round  his  neck.  Then  she  held  him  for 
an  instant  at  arm's-length  to  feast  her  eyes  upon  his  face, 
and  then  drew  him  once  more  towards  her.  "You* will 
not  leave  me,  dear  sire.  It  is  so  long  since  you  have  been 
here." 

The  sweet  face,  the  pink  glow  in  the  room,  the  hush  of 
the  evening,  all  seemed  to  join  in  their  sensuous  influence. 
Louis  sank  down  upon  the  settee. 

"  I  will  stay,"  said  he. 

"  And  that  carriage,  dear  sire,  at  the  east  door  ?"      * 

"  I  have  been  very  harsh  with  you,  Franchise.  You  will 
forgive  me.  Have  you  paper  and  pencil,  that  I  may  counter- 
mand the  order?" 

"  They  are  here,  sire,  upon  the  side  table.  I  have  also  a 
note  which,  if  I  may  leave  you  for  an  instant,  I  will  write 
in  the  anteroom." 

She  swept  out  with  triumph  in  her  eyes.  It  had  been  a 
terrible  fight,  but  all  the  greater  the  credit  of  her  victory. 
She  took  a  little  pink  slip  of  paper  from  an  inlaid  desk,  and 
dashed  off  a  few  words  upon  it.  They  were,  "  Should 
Madame  de  Maintenon  have  any  message  for  his  Majesty, 
he  will  be  for  the  next  few  hours  in  the  room  of  Madame  de 
Montespan."  This  she  addressed  to  her  rival,  and  it  was 
sent  on  the  spot,  together  with  the  King's  order,  by  the 
hands  of  the  little  black  page. 


CHAPTER     XI 
THE    SUN    REAPPEARS 

FOR  nearly  a  week  the  King  was  constant  to  his  new 
humor.  The  routine  of  his  life  remained  unchanged,  save 
that  it  was  the  room  of  the  frail  beauty,  rather  than  of 
Madame  de  Maintenon,  which  attracted  him  in  the  after- 
noon. And  in  sympathy  with  this  sudden  relapse  into  his. 
old  life,  his  coats  lost  something  of  their  sombre  hue,  and 
fawn-color,  buff-color,  and  lilac  began  to  replace  the  blacks 
and  the  blues.  A  little  gold  lace  budded  out  upon  his  hats 
also  and  at  the  trimmings  of  his  pockets,  while  for  three 
days  on  end  his  prie-dieu  at  the  royal  chapel  had  been  un- 
occupied. His  walk  was  brisker,  and  he  gave  a  youthful 
flourish  to  his  cane  as  a  defiance  to  those  who  had  seen  in ' 
his  reformation  the  first  symptoms  of  age.  Madame  had 
known  her  man  well  when  she  threw  out  that  artful  insinu- 
ation. 

And  as  the  King  brightened,  so  all  the  great  court 
brightened  too.  The  salons  began  to  resume  their  former 
splendor,  and  gay  coats  and  glittering  embroidery  which 
had  lain  in  drawers  for  years  were  seen  once  more  in  the 
halls  of  the  palace.  In  the  chapel,  Bourdaloue  preached  in 
vain  to  empty  benches,  but  a  ballet  in  the  grounds  was  at- 
tended by  the  whole  court,  and  received  with  a  frenzy  of 
enthusiasm.  The  Montespan  anteroom  was  crowded  every 
morning  with  men  and  women  who  had  some  suit  to  be 
urged,  while  her  rival's  chambers  were  as  deserted  as  they 
had  been  before  the  King  first  turned  a  gracious  look  upon 
her.  Faces  which  had  been  long  banished  the  court  began 
to  reappear  in  the  corridors  and  gardens  unchecked  and 
unrebuked,  while  the  black  cassock  of  the  Jesuit  and  the 

104 


purple  soutane  of  the  bishop  were  less  frequent  colors  in 
the  royal  circle. 

But  the  Church  party,  who,  if  they  were  the  champions 
of  bigotry,  were  also  those  of  virtue,  were  never  seriously 
alarmed  at  this  relapse.  The  grave  eyes  of  priest  or  of  prel- 
ate followed  Louis  in  his  escapade  as  wary  huntsmen  might 
watch  a  young  deer  which  gambols  about  in  the  meadow 
under  the  impression  that  it  is  masterless,  when  every  gap 
and  path  is  netted,  and  it  is  in  truth  as  much  in  their  hands 
as  though  it  were  lying  bound  before  them.  They  knew 
how  short  a  time  it  would  be  before  some  ache,  some  pain, 
some  chance  word,  would  bring  his  mortality  home  to  him 
again,  and  envelop  him  once  more  in  those  superstitious 
terrors  which  took  the  place  of  religion  in  his  mind.  They 
waited,  therefore,  and  they  silently  planned  how  the  prodigal 
might  best  be  dealt  with  on  his  return. 

To  this  end  it  was  that  his  confessor,  Pere  La  Chaise, 
and  Bossuet,  the  great  Bishop  of  Meaux,  waited  one  morn- 
ing upon  Madame  de  Maintenon  in  her  chamber.  With  a 
globe  begide  her,  she  was  endeavoring  to  teach  geography 
to  the  lame  Due  du  Maine  and  the  mischievous  little  Comte 
de  Toulouse,  who  had  enough  of  their  father's  disposition 
to  make  them  averse  to  learning,  and  of  their  mother's  to 
cause  them  to  hate  any  discipline  or  restraint. *  Her  wonder- 
ful tact,  however,  and  her  unwearying  patience  had  won  the 
love  and  confidence  even  of  these  little  perverse  princes, 
and  it  was  one  of  Madame  de  Montespan's  most  bitter 
griefs  that  not  only  her  royal  lover,  but  even  her  own  chil- 
dren, turned  away  from  the  brilliancy  and  riches  of  her 
salon  to  pass  their  time  in  the  modest  apartment  of  her 
rival. 

Madame  de  Maintenon  dismissed  her  two  pupils,  and  re- 
ceived the  ecclesiastics  with  the  mixture  of  affection  and 
respect  which  was  due  to  those  who  were  not  only  personal 
friends,  but  great  lights  of  the  Gallican  Church.  She  had 
suffered  the  minister  Louvois  to  sit  upon  a  stool  in  her  pres- 
ence, but  the  two  chairs  were  allotted  to  the  priests  now, 
and  she  insisted  upon  reserving  he  humbler  seat  for  her- 
self. The  last  few  days  had  cast  a  pallor  over  her  face 

105 


which  spiritualized  and  refined  the  features,  but  she  wore 
unimpaired  the  expression  of  sweet  serenity  which  was 
habitual  to  her. 

"I  see,  my  dear  daughter,  that  you  have  sorrowed,"  said 
Bossuet,  glancing  at  her  with  a  kindly  and  yet  searching  eye. 

"  I  have  indeed,  your  Grace.  All  last  night  I  spent  in 
prayer  that  this  trial  may  pass  away  from  us." 

"And  yet  you  have  no  need  for  fear,  madame—  none,  I 
assure  you.  Others  may  think  that  your  influence  has 
ceased  ;  but  we,  who  know  the  King's  heart,  we  think  other- 
wise. A  few  days  may  pass,  a  few  weeks  at  the  most,  and 
once  more  it  will  be  upon  your  rising  fortunes  that  every 
eye  in  France  will  turn." 

The  lady's  brow  clouded,  and  she  glanced  at  the  prelate 
as  though  his  speech  were  not  altogether  to  her  taste.  "  I 
trust  that  pride  does  not  lead  me  astray,"  she  said.  "  But 
if  I  can  read  my  own  soul  aright,  there  is  no  thought  of 
myself  in  the  grief  which  now  tears  my  heart.  What  is 
power  to  me'?  What  do  I  desire  ?  A  little  room,  leisure 
for  my  devotions,  a  pittance  to  save  me  from  want — what 
more  can  I  ask  for?  Why,  then,  should  I  covet  power?  If 
I  am  sore  at  heart,  it  is  not  for  any  poor  loss  which  I  have 
sustained.  1  think  no  more  of  it  than  of  the  snapping  of 
one  of  the  threads  on  yonder  tapestry  frame.  It  is  for  the 
King  I  grieve— for  the  noble  heart;  the  kindly  soul,  which 
might  rise  so  high,  and  which  is  dragged  so  low,  like  a 
royal  eagle  with  some  foul  weight  which  ever  hampers  its 
flight.  It  is  for  him  and  for  France  that  my  days  are  spent 
in  sorrow  and  my  nights  upon  my  knees." 

"  For  all  that,  my  daughter,  you  are  ambitious." 

It  was  the  Jesuit  who  had  spoken.  His  voice  was  clear 
and  cold,  and  his  piercing  gray  eyes  seemed  to  read  into 
the  depths  of  her  soul. 

"You  may  be  right,  father.  God  guard  me  from  self- 
esteem.  And  yet  I  do  not  think  that  I  am.  The  King,  in 
his  goodness,  has  offered  me  titles — I  have  refused  them  ; 
money — I  have  returned  it.  He  has  deigned  to  ask  my 
advice  in  matters  of  state,  and  I  have  withheld  it.  Where, 
then,  is  my  ambition  ?" 

ir>6 


"  In  your  heart,  my  daughter.  But  it  is  not  a  sinful  am- 
bition. It  is  not  an  ambition  of  this  world.  Would  you  not 
love  to  turn  the  King  towards  good  ?" 

"  I  would  give  my  life  for  it." 

"And  there  is  your  ambition.  Ah,  can  I  not  read  your 
noble  soul?  Would  you  not  love  to  see  the  Church  reign 
pure  and  serene  over  all  this  realm — to  see  the  poor  housed, 
the  needy  helped,  the  wicked  turned  from  their  ways,  and 
the  King  ever  the  leader  in  all  that  is  noble  and  good  ? 
Would  you  not  love  that,  my  daughter  ?" 

Her  cheeks  had  flushed,  and  her  eyes  shone  as  she  looked 
at  the  gray  face  of  the  Jesuit,  and  saw  the  picture  which 
his  words  had  conjured  up  before  her.  "Ah,  that  would 
be  joy  indeed  !"  she  cried. 

"  And  greater  joy  still  to  know,  not  from  the  mouths  of 
the  people,  but  from  the  voice  of  your  own  heart  in  the  pri- 
vacy of  your  chamber,  that  you  had  been  the  cause  of  it, 
that  your  influence  had  brought  this  blessing  upon  the 
King  and  upon  the  country." 

"  I  would  die  to  do  it." 

"  We  wish  you  to  do  what  may  be  harder.  We  wish  you 
to  live  to  do  it." 

"  Ah  !"  She  glanced  from  one  to  the  other  with  question- 
ing eyes. 

"  My  daughter,"  said  Bossuet,  solemnly,  leaning  forward, 
with  his  broad  white  hand  out-stretched  and  his  purple  pas- 
toral ring  sparkling  in  the  sunlight,  "  it  is  time  for  plain 
speaking.  It  is  in  the  interests  of  the  Church  that  we  do 
it.  None  hear,  and  none  shall  ever  hear,  what  passes  be- 
tween us  now.  Regard  us,  if  you  will,  as  two  confessors, 
with  whom  your  secret  is  inviolable.  I  call  it  a  secret,  and 
yet  it  is  none  to  us,  for  it  is  our  mission  to  read  the  human 
heart.  You  love  the  King." 

"  Your  Grace  !"  She  started,  and  a  warm  blush,  mantling 
up  in  her  pale  cheeks,  deepened  and  spread  until  it  tinted 
her  white  forehead  and  her  queenly  neck. 

"You  love  the  King." 

"Your  Grace— father !"  She  turned  in  confusion  from 
one  to  the  other. 

H  107 


"  There  is  no  shame  in  loving,  my  daughter.  The  shame 
lies  only  in  yielding  to  love.  I  say  again  that  you  love  the 
King." 

"  At  least  I  have  never  told  him  so,"  she  faltered. 

"  And  will  you  never  ?" 

"  May  Heaven  wither  my  tongue  first !" 

"  But  consider,  my  daughter.  Such  love  in  a  soul  like 
yours  is  Heaven's  gift,  and  sent  for  some  wise  purpose. 
This  human  love  is  too  often  but  a  noxious  weed  which 
blights  the  soil  it  grows  in,  but  here  it  is  a  gracious  flower, 
all  fragrant  with  humility  and  virtue." 

"  Alas  !  I  have  tried  to  tear  it  from  my  heart." 

"  Nay  ;  rather  hold  it  firmly  rooted  there.  Did  the  King 
but  meet  with  some  tenderness  from  you,  some  sign  that  his 
own  affection  met  with  an  answer  from  your  heart,  it  might 
be  that  this  ambition  which  you  profess  would  be  secured, 
and  that  Louis,  strengthened  by  the  intimate  companionship 
of  your  noble  nature,  might  love  in  the  spirit  as  well  as  in 
the  forms  of  the  Church.  All  this  might  spring  from  the 
love  which  you  hide  away  as  though  it  bore  the  brand  of 
shame." 

The  lady  half  rose,  glancing  from  the  prelate  to  the  priest 
with  eyes  which  had  a  lurking  horror  in  their  depths. 

"  Can  I  have  understood  you  !"  she  gasped.  "  What 
meaning  lies  behind  these  words  ?  You  cannot  counsel  me 
to—" 

The  Jesuit  had  risen,  and  his  spare  figure  towered  above 
her. 

"  My  daughter,  we  give  no  counsel  which  is  unworthy 
of  our  office.  We  speak  for  the  interests  of  Holy  Church, 
and  those  interests  demand  that  you  should  marry  the 
King." 

"  Marry  the  King  !"  The  little  room  swam  round  her. 
"  Marry  the  King  !" 

"  There  lies  the  best  hope  for  the  future.  We  see  in  you 
a  second  Jeanne  d'Arc  who  will  save  both  France  and 
France's  king." 

Madame  sat  silent  for  a  few  moments.  Her  face  had  re- 
gained its  composure,  and  her  eyes  were  bent  vacantly  upon 

108 


her  tapestry  frame  as  she  turned  over  in  her  mind  all  that 
was  involved  in  the  suggestion. 

"  But  surely  —  surely  this  could  never  be*"  she  said  at 
last.  "  Why  should  we  plan  that  which  can  never  come  to 
pass  ?" 

"  And  why  ?" 

"  What  King  of  France  has  married  a  subject  ?  See  how 
every  princess  of  Europe  stretches  out  her  hand  to  him. 
The  Queen  of  France  must  be  of  queenly  blood,  even  as  the 
last  was." 

"  All  this  may  be  overcome." 

"And  then  there  are  the  reasons  of  state.  If  the  King 
marry,  it  should  be  to  form  a  powerful  alliance,  to  cement  a 
friendship  with  a  neighbor  nation,  or  to  gain  some  province 
which  -may  be  the  bride's  dowry.  What  is  my  dowry  ?  A 
widow's  pension  and  a  work-box."  She  laughed  bitterly, 
and  yet  glanced  eagerly  at  her  companions,  as  one  who 
wished  to  be  confuted. 

"  Your  dowry,  my  daughter,  would  be  those  gifts  of  body 
and  of  mind  with  which  Heaven  has  endowed  you.  The 
King  has  money  enough,  and  the  King  has  provinces  enough. 
As  to  the  state,  how  can  the  state  be  better  served  than  by 
the  assurance  that  the  King  will  be  saved  in  future  from 
such  sights  as  are  to  be  seen  in  this  palace  to-day  ?" 

"  Oh,  if  it  could  be  so  !  But  think,  father,  think  of  those 
about  him — the  Dauphin,  Monsieur  his  brother,  his  minis- 
ters. You  know  how  little  this  would  please  them,  and  how 
easy  it  is  for  them  to  sway  his  mind.  No,  no  ;  it  is  a  dream, 
father,  and  it  can  never  be." 

The  faces  of  the  two  ecclesiastics,  who  had  dismissed  her 
other  objections  with  a  smile  and  a  wave,  clouded  over  at 
this,  as  though  she  had  at  last  touched  upon  the  real  ob- 
stacle. 

"  My  daughter,"  said  the  Jesuit,  gravely,  "  that  is  a  mat- 
ter which  you  may  leave  to  the  Church.  It  may  be  that  we 
too  have  some  power  over  the  King's  mind,  and  that  we 
may  lead  him  in  the  right  path,  even  though  those  of  his 
own  blood  would  fain  have  it  otherwise.  The  future  only 
can  show  with  whom  the  power  lies.  But  you  ?  Love  and 

109 


duty  both  draw  you  one  way  now,  and  the  Church  may  count 
upon  you." 

"  To  my  last  breath,  father." 

"  And  you  upon  the  Church.  It  will  serve  you,  if  you 
in  turn  will  but  serve  it." 

"What  higher  wish  could  I  have  ?" 

"  You  will  be  our  daughter,  our  Queen,  our  champion 
and  you  will  heal  the  wounds  of  the  suffering  Church." 

"  Ah,  if  I  could  !" 

"  But  you  can.  While  there  is  heresy  within  the  land 
there  can  be  no  peace  or  rest  for  the  faithful.  It  is  the 
speck  of  mould  which  will  in  time,  if  it  be  not  pared  off, 
corrupt  the  whole  fruit." 

"  What  would  you  have,  then,  father?" 

"  The  Huguenots  must  go.  They  must  be  driven  forth. 
The  goats  must  be  divided  from  the  sheep.  The  King  is 
already  in  two  minds.  Louvois  is  our  friend  now.  If  you 
are  with  us,  then  all  will  be  well." 

"  But,  father,  think  how  many  there  are  !" 

"  The  more  reason  that  they  should  be  dealt  with." 

"  And  think,  too,  of  their  sufferings  should  they  be  driven 
forth." 

"  Their  cure  lies  in  their  own  hands." 

"  That  is  true.     And  yet  my  heart  softens  for  them." 

Pere  La  Chaise  and  the  bishop  shook  their  heads.  Nat- 
ure had  made  them  both  kind  and  charitable  men,  but  the 
heart  turns  to  flint  when  the  blessing  of  religion  is  changed 
to  the  curse  of  sect. 

"  You  would  befriend  God's  enemies,  then  ?" 

"  No,  no  ;  not  if  they  are  indeed  so." 

"  Can  you  doubt  it  ?  Is  it  possible  that  your  heart  still 
turns  towards  the  heresy  of  your  youth  ?" 

"  No,  father ;  but  it  is  not  in  nature  to  forget  that  my 
father  and  my  grandfather—" 

"  Nay,  they  have  answered  for  their  own  sins.  Is  it  possi- 
ble that  the  Church  has  been  mistaken  in  you  ?  Do  you  then 
refuse  the  first  favor  which  she  asks  of  you  ?  You  would 
accept  her  aid,  and  yet  you  would  give  none  in  return." 

Madame  de  Maintenon  rose  with  the  air  of  one  who  has 
no 


i 

. 


made  her  resolution.  "  You  are  wiser  than  I,"  said  she, 
"  and  to  you  have  been  committed  the  interests  of  the 
Church.  I  will  do  what  you  advise." 

"  You  promise  it  ?" 

"  I  do." 

Her  two  visitors  threw  up  their  hands  together.  "  It  is 
a  blessed  day,"  they  cried,  "  and  generations  yet  unborn 
will  learn  to  deem  it  so." 

She  sat  half  stunned  by  the  prospect  which  was  open- 
ing out  in  front  of  her.  Ambitious  she  had,  as  the  Jesuit 
had  surmised,  always  been — ambitious  for  the  power  which 
would  enable  her  to  leave  the  world  better  than  she  found 
it.  And  this  ambition  she  had  already  to  some  extent  been 
able  to  satisfy,  for  more  than  once  she  had  swayed  both 
king  and  kingdom.  But  to  marry  the  King — to  marry  the 
man  for  whom  she  would  gladly  lay  down  her  life,  whom  in 
the  depths  of  her  heart  she  loved  in  as  pure  and  as  noble  a 
fashion  as  woman  ever  yet  loved  man — that  was  indeed  a 
thing  above  her  utmost  hopes.  She  knew  her  own  mind, 
and  she  knew  his.  Once  his  wife,  she  could  hold  him  to 
good,  and  keep  every  evil  influence  away  from  him.  She 
was  sure  of  it.  She  should  be  no  weak  Maria  Theresa,  but 
rather,  as  the  priest  had  said,  a  new  Jeanne  d'Arc,  come  to 
lead  France  and  France's  king  into  better  ways.  And  if, 
to  gain  this  aim,  she  had  to  harden  her  heart  against  the 
Huguenots,  at  least  the  fault,  if  there  were  one,  lay  with  those 
who  made  this  condition  rather  than  with  herself.  The 
King's  wife  !  The  heart  of  the  woman  and  the  soul  of  the 
enthusiast  both  leaped  at  the  thought. 

But  close  at  the  heels  of  her  joy  there  came  a  sudden  re- 
vulsion to  doubt  and  despondency.  Was  not  all  this  fine 
prospect  a  mere  day-dream  ?  and  how  could  these  men  be 
so  sure  that  they  held  the  King  in  the  hollow  of  their  hand  ? 
The  Jesuit  read  the  fears  which  dulled  the  sparkle  of  her 
eyes,  and  answered  her  thoughts  before  she  had  time  to  put 
them  into  words. 

"  The  Church  redeems  its  pledges  swiftly,"  said  he. 
"  And  you,  my  daughter,  you  must  be  as  prompt  when  your 
own  turn  comes." 

in 


"  I  have  promised,  father." 

"  Then  it  is  for  us  to  perform.  You  will  remain  in  your 
room  all  evening." 

"Yes,  father." 

"  The  King  already  hesitates.  I  spoke  with  him  this 
morning,  and  his  mind  was  full  of  blackness  and  despair. 
His  better  self  turns  in  disgust  from  his  sins,  and  it  is  now 
when  the  first  hot  fit  of  repentance  is  just  coming  upon  him 
that  he  may  best  be  moulded  to  our  ends.  I  have  to  see 
and  speak  with  him  once  more,  and  I  go  from  your  room  to 
his.  And  when  I  have  spoken,  he  will  come  from  his  room 
to  yours,  or  I  have  studied  his  heart  for  twenty  years  in  vain. 
We  leave  you  now,  and  you  will  not  see  us,  but  you  will  see 
the  effects  of  what  we  do,  and  you  will  remember  your 
pledge  to  us."  They  bowed  low  to  her,  both  together,  and 
left  her  to  her  thoughts. 

An  hour  passed,  and  then  a  second  one,  as  she  sat  in  her 
fauteuil,  her  tapestry  before  her,  but  her  hands  listless  upon 
her  lap,  waiting  for  her  fate.  Her  life's  future  was  now 
being  settled  for  her,  and  she  was  powerless  to  turn  in  one 
way  or  the  other.  Daylight  turned  to  the  pearly  light  of 
evening,  and  that  again  to  dusk,  but  she  still  sat  waiting  in 
the  shadow.  Sometimes  as  a  step  passed  in  the  corridor 
she  would  glance  expectantly  towards  the  door,  and  the  light 
of  welcome  would  spring  up  in  her  gray  eyes,  only  to  die 
away  again  into  disappointment.  At  last,  however,  there 
came  a  quick  sharp  tread,  crisp  and  authoritative,  which 
brought  her  to  her  feet  with  flushed  cheeks  and  her  heart 
beating  wildly.  The  door  opened,  and  she  saw  outlined 
against  the  gray  light  of  the  outer  passage  the  erect  and 
graceful  figure  of  the  King.* 

"  Sire !  One  instant,  and  mademoiselle  will  light  the 
lamp." 

"  Do  not  call  her."  He  entered  and  closed  the  door  be- 
hind him.  "  Franchise,  the  dusk  is  welcome  to  me,  because 
it  screens  me  from  the  reproaches  which  must  lie  in  your 
glance,  even  if  your  tongue  be  too  kindly  to  utter  them." 

"Reproaches,  sire!  God  forbid  that  I  should  utter 
them !" 

112 


"  When  I  last  left  you,  Frangoise,  it  was  with  a  good  res- 
olution in  my  mind.  I  tried  to  carry  it  out,  and  I  failed — 
I  failed.  I  remember  that  you  warned  me.  Fool  that  I 
was  not  to  follow  your  advice  !" 

"  We  are  all  weak  and  mortal,  sire.  Who  has  not  fallen  ? 
Nay,  sire,  it  goes  to  my  heart  to  see  you  thus." 

He  was  standing  by  the  fireplace,  his  face  buried  in  his 
hands,  and  she  could  tell  by  the  catch  of  his  breath  that  he 
was  weeping.  All  the  pity  of  her  woman's  nature  went  out 
to  that  silent  and  repenting  figure  dimly  seen  in  the  failing 
light.  She  put  out  her  hand  with  a  gesture  of  sympathy, 
and  it  rested  for  an  instant  upon  his  velvet  sleeve.  The 
next  he  had  clasped  it  between  his  own,  and  she  made  no 
effort  to  release  it. 

"  I  cannot  do  without  you,  Franchise,"  he  cried.  "  I  am 
the  loneliest  man  in  all  this  world,  like  one  who  lives  on 
a  great  mountain-peak,  with  none  to  bear  him  company. 
Who  have  I  for  a  friend  ?  Whom  can  I  rely  upon  ?  Some 
are  for  the  Church  ;  some  are  for  their  families ;  most  are 
for  themselves.  But  who  of  them  all  is  single-minded? 
You  are  my  better  self,  Frangoise  ;  you  are  my  guardian 
angel.  What  the  good  father  says  is  true,  and  the  nearer  I 
am  to  you  the  farther  am  I  from  all  that  is  evil.  Tell  me 
Frangoise,  do  you  love  me  ?" 

"  I  have  loved  you  for  years,  sire."  Her  voice  was  low 
but  clear — the  voice  of  a  woman  to  whom  coquetry  was  ab- 
horrent. 

"  I  had  hoped  it,  Frangoise,  and  yet  it  thrills  me  to  hear 
you  say  it.  I  know  that  wealth  and  title  have  no  attraction 
for  you,  and  that  your  heart  turns  rather  towards  the  con- 
vent than  the  palace.  Yet  I  ask  you  to  remain  in  the  palace 
and  to  reign  there.  Will  you  be  my  wife,  Franchise  ?" 

And  so  the  moment  had  in  very  truth  come.  She  paused 
for  an  instant,  only  an  instant,  before  taking  this  last  great 
step ;  but  even  that  was  too  long  for  the  patience  of  the  King. 

"  Will  you  not,  Franchise  ?"  he  cried,  with  the  ring  of  fear 
in  his  voice. 

"  May  God  make  me  worthy  of  such  an  honor,  sire  !"  said 
she.  "  And  here  I  swear  that  if  Heaven  double  my  life, 

113 


every  hour  shall  be  spent  in  the  one  endeavor  to  make  you 
a  happier  man  !" 

She  had  knelt  down,  and  the  King,  still  holding  her  hand, 
knelt  down  beside  her. 

"  And  I  swear  too,"  he  cried,  "  that  if  my  days  also  are 
doubled,  you  will  now  and  forever  be  the  one  and  only 
woman  for  me." 

And  so  their  double  oath  was  taken,  an  oath  which  was 
to  be  tested  in  the  future,  for  each  did  live  almost  double 
their  years,  and  yet  neither  broke  the  promise  made  hand 
in  hand  on  that  evening  in  the  shadow-girt  chamber. 


CHAPTER   XII 
THE    KING    RECEIVES 

IT  may  have  been  that  Mademoiselle  Nanon,  the  faithful 
confidante  of  Madame  de  Maintenon,  had  learned  some- 
thing of  this  interview,  or  it  may  be  that  Pere  La  Chaise, 
with  the  shrewdness  for  which  his  order  is  famous,  had 
come  to  the  conclusion  that  publicity  was  the  best  means  of 
holding  the  King  to  his  present  intention,  but  whatever  the 
source,  it  was  known  all  over  the  court  next  day  that  the 
old  favorite  was  again  in  disgrace,  and  that  there  was  talk 
of  a  marriage  between  the  King  and  the  governess  of  his 
children.  It  was  whispered  at  the  pztit  lever,  confirmed  at 
the  grand  entree,  and  was  common  gossip  by  the  time  that 
the  King  had  returned  from  chape'.  Back  into  wardrobe 
and  drawer  went  the  flaring  silks  and  the  feathered  hats, 
and  out  once  more  came  the  sombre  coat  and  the  matronly 
dress.  Scudery  and  Calpernedi  gave  place  to  the  missal 
and  St.  Thomas  a  Kempis,  while  Bourdaloue,  after  preach- 
ing for  a  week  to  empty  benches,  found  his  chapel  packed 
to  the  last  seat  with  weary  gentlemen  and  taper-bearing 
ladies.  By  mid-day  there  was  none  in  the  court  who  had 
not  heard  the  tidings,  save  only  Madame  de  Montespan, 
who,  alarmed  at  her  lover's  absence,  had  remained  in 
haughty  seclusion  in  her  room,  and  knew  nothing  of  what 
had  passed.  Many  there  were  who  would  have  loved  to 
carry  her  the  tidings ;  but  the  King's  changes  had  been  fre- 
quent of  late,  and  who  would  dare  to  make  a  mortal  enemy 
of  one  who  might,  ere  many  weeks  were  past,  have  the  lives 
and  fortunes  of  the  whole  court  in  the  hollow  of  her  hand  ? 

Louis,  in  his  innate  selfishness,  had  been  so  accustomed 
to  regard  every  event  entirely  from  the  side  of  how  it  would 


affect  himself,  that  it  had  never  struck  him  that  his  long- 
suffering  family,  who  had  always  yielded  to  him  the  absolute 
obedience  which  he  claimed  as  his  right,  would  venture  to 
offer  any  opposition  to  his  new  resolution.  He  was  sur- 
prised, therefore,  when  his  brother  demanded  a  private  in- 
terview that  afternoon,  and  entered  his  presence  without 
the  complaisant  smile  and  humble  air  with  which  he  was 
wont  to  appear  before  him. 

Monsieur  was  a  curious  travesty  of  his  elder  brother.  He 
was  shorter,  but  he  wore  enormously  high  boot-heels,  which 
brought  him  to  a  fair  stature.  In  figure  he  had  none  of  that 
grace  which  marked  the  King,  nor  had  he  the  elegant  hand 
and  foot  which  had  been  the  delight  of  sculptors.  He  was 
fat,  waddled  somewhat  in  his  walk,  and  wore  an  enormous 
black  wig,  which  rolled  down  in  rows  and  rows  of  curls 
over  his  shoulders.  His  face  was  longer  and  darker  than  the 
King's,  and  his  nose  more  prominent,  though  he  shared 
with  his  brother  the  large  brown  eyes  which  each  had  in- 
herited from  Anne  of  Austria.  He  had  none  of  the  simple 
and  yet  stately  taste  which  marked  the  dress  of  the  mon- 
arch, but  his  clothes  were'*  all  tagged  over  with  fluttering 
ribbons,  which  rustled  behind  him  as  he  walked,  and  clus- 
tered so  thickly  over  his  feet  as  to  conceal  .them  from  view. 
Crosses,  stars,  jewels,  and  insignia  were  scattered  broadcast 
over  his  person,  and  the  broad  blue  ribbon  of  the  Order  of 
the  Holy  Ghost  was  slashed  across  his  coat,  and  was  gath- 
ered at  the  end  into  a  great  bow,  which  formed  the  incon- 
gruous support  of  a  diamond-hilted  sword.  Such  was  the 
figure  which  rolled  towards  the  King,  bearing  in  his  right 
hand  his  many-feathered  beaver,  and  appearing  in  his  per- 
son, as  he  was  in  his  mind,  an  absurd  burlesque  of  the 
monarch. 

"  Why,  Monsieur,  you  seem  less  gay  than  usual  to-day," 
said  the  King,  with  a  smile.  "  Your  dress,  indeed,  is  bright, 
but  your  brow  is  clouded.  I  trust  that  all  is  well  with 
Madame  and  with  the  Due  de  Chartres  ?" 

"  Yes,  sire,  they  are  well ;  but  they  are  sad  like  myself, 
and  from  the  same  cause." 

"Indeed!  and  why?" 

116 


"  Have  I  ever  failed  in  my  duty  as  your  younger  brother, 
sire  ?" 

"  Never,  Philippe,  never  !"  said  the  King,  laying  his  hand 
affectionately  upon  the  other's  shoulder.  "  You  have  set  an 
excellent  example  to  my  subjects." 

"  Then  why  set  a  slight  upon  me  ?" 

"  Philippe  1" 

"  Yes,  sire,  I  say  it  is  a  slight.  We  are  of  royal  blood,  and 
our  wives  are  of  royal  blood  also.  You  married  the  Princess 
of  Spain  ;  I  married  the  Princess  of  Bavaria.  It  was  a  con- 
descension, but  still  I  did  it.  My  first  wife  was  the  Princess 
of  England.  How  can  we  admit  into  a  house  which  has 
formed  such  alliances  as  these  a  woman  who  is  the  widow 
of  a  hunchback  singer,  a  mere  lampooner,  a  man  whose 
name  is  a  byword  through  Europe  ?" 

The  King  had  stared  in  amazement  at  his  brother,  but 
his  anger  now  overcame  his  astonishment. 

"  Upon  my  word  !"  he  cried  ;  "  upon  my  word !  I  have 
said  just  now  that  you  have  been  an  excellent  brother,  but 
I  fear  that  I  spoke  a  little  prematurely.  And  so  you  take 
upon  yourself  to  object  to  the  lady  whom  I  select  as  my 
wife !" 

"  I  do,  sire." 

"And  by  what  right?" 

"  By  the  right  of  the  family  honor,  sire,  which  is  as  much 
mine  as  yours." 

"  Man,"  cried  the  King,  furiously,  "  have  you  not  yet 
learned  that  within  this  kingdom  I  am  the  fountain  of 
honor,  and  that  whomsoever  I  may  honor  becomes  by  that 
very  fact  honorable  ?  Were  I  to  take  a  cinder-wench  out  of 
the  Rue  Poissonniere,  I  could  at  my  will  raise  her  up  until 
the  highest  in  France  would  be  proud  to  bow  down  before 
her.  Do  you  not  know  this  ?" 

"  No,  I  do  not,"  cried  his  brother,  with  all  the  obstinacy 
of  a  weak  man  who  has  at  last  been  driven  to  bay.  "  I  look 
upon  it  as  a  slight  upon  me  and  a  slight  upon  my  wife." 

"  Your  wife  !  I  have  every  respect  for  Charlotte  Eliza- 
beth of  Bavaria,  but  how  is  she  superior  to  one  whose 
grandfather  was  the  dear  friend  and  comrade  in  arms  of 

117 


Henry  the  Great :  Enough  !  I  will  not  condescend  to 
argue  such  a  matter  with  you !  Begone,  and  do  not  return 
to  my  presence  until  you  have  learned  not  to  interfere  in 
my  affairs." 

"  For  all  that,  my  wife  shall  not  know  her  !"  snarled  Mon- 
sieur; and  then,  as  his  brother  took  a  fiery  step  or  two 
towards  him,  he  turned  and  scuttled  out  of  the  room  as  fast 
as  his  awkward  gait  and  high  heels  would  allow  him. 

But  the  King  was  to  have  no  quiet  that  day.  If  Madame 
de  Maintenon's  friends  had  rallied  to  her  yesterday,  her 
enemies  were  active  to-day.  Monsieur  had  hardly  disap- 
peared before  there  rushed  into  the  room  a  youth  who  bore 
upon  his  rich  attire  every  sign  of  having  just  arrived  from  a 
dusty  journey.  He  was  pale-faced  and  auburn-haired,  with 
features  which  would  have  been  strikingly  like  the  King's  if 
it  were  not  that  his  nose  had  been  disfigured  in  his  youth. 
The  King's  face  had  lighted  up  at  the  sight  of  him,  but  it 
darkened  again  as  he  hurried  forward  and  threw  himself 
down  at  his  feet. 

"  Oh,  sire,"  he  cried,  "spare  us  this  grief! — spare  us  this 
humiliation!  I  implore  you  to  pause  before  you  do  what 
will  bring  dishonor  upon  yourself  and  upon  us !" 

The  King  started  back  from  him,  and  paced  angrily  up 
and  down  the  room. 

"  This  is  intolerable  !"  he  cried.  "  It  was  bad  from  my 
brother,  but  worse  from  my  son.  You  are  in  a  conspiracy 
with  him,  Louis.  Monsieur  has  told  you  to  act  this  part." 

The  Dauphin  rose  to  his  feet  and  looked  steadfastly  at 
his  angry  father. 

"  I  have  not  seen  my  uncle,"  he  said.  "  I  was  at  Meudon 
when  I  heard  this  news — this  dreadful  news — and  I  sprang 
upon  my  horse,  sire,  and  galloped  over  to  implore  you  to 
think  again  before  you  drag  our  royal  house  so  low." 

"  You  are  insolent,  Louis." 

"  I  do  not  mean  to  be  so,  sire.  But  consider,  sire,  that 
my  mother  was  a  queen,  and  that  it  would  be  strange  in- 
deed if  for  a  step-mother  I  had  a — " 

The  King  raised  his  hand  with  a  gesture  of  authority 
which  checked  the  word  upon  his  lips. 

118 


"  Silence  I"  he  cried,  "  or  you  may  say  that  which  would 
forever  set  a  gulf  between  us.  Am  I  to  be  treated  worse 
than  my  humblest  subject,  who  is  allowed  to  follow  his  own 
bent  in  his  private  affairs  ?" 

"  This  is  not  your  own  private  affair,  sire  ;  all  that  you  do 
reflects  upon  your  family.  The  great  deeds  of  your  reign 
have  given  a  new  glory  to  the  name  of  Bourbon.  Oh,  do 
not  mar  it  now,  sire !  I  implore  it  of  you  upon  my  bended 
knees!" 

"You  talk  like  a  fool!"  cried  his  father,  roughly.  "I 
propose  to  marry  a  virtuous  and  charming  lady  of  one  of 
the  oldest  noble  families  of  France,  and  you  talk  as  if  I 
were  doing  something  degrading  and  unheard  of.  What  is 
your  objection  to  this  lady  ?" 

"That  she  is  the  daughter  of  a  man  whose  vices  were 
well  known,  that  her  brother  is  of  the  worst  repute,  that  she 
has  led  the  life  of  an  adventuress,  is  the  widow  of  a  de- 
formed scribbler,  and  that  she,  occupies  a  menial  position 
in  the  palace." 

The  King  had  stamped  with  his  foot  upon  the  carpet 
more  than  once  during  this  frank  address,  but  his  anger 
blazed  into  a  fury  at  its  conclusion. 

"  Do  you  dare,"  he  cried,  with  flashing  eyes,  "to  call  the 
charge  of  my  children  a  menial  position  ?  I  say  that  there 
is  no  higher  in  the  kingdom.  Go  back  to  Meudon,  sir,  this 
instant,  and  never  dare  to  open  your  mouth  again  on  the 
subject.  Away,  I  say !  When,  in  God's  good  time,  you 
are  King  of  this  country,  you  may  claim  your  own  way,  but 
until  then  do  not  venture  to  cross  the  plans  of  one  who  is 
both  your  parent  and  your  monarch." 

The  young  man  bowed  low,  and  walked  with  dignity  from 
the  chamber ;  but  he  turned  with  his  hand  upon  the  door : 

"The  Abbe  Fenelon  came  with  me,  sire.  Is  it  your 
pleasure  to  see  him  ?" 

"  Away !  away !"  cried  the  King,  furiously,  still  striding 
up  and  down  the  room  with  angry  face  and  flashing  eyes. 
The  Dauphin  left  the  cabinet,  and  was  instantly  succeeded 
by  a  tall  thin  priest,  some  forty  years  of  age,  strikingly 
handsome,  with  a  pale  refined  face,  large  well-marked  feat- 

119 


ures,  and  the  easy  deferential  bearing  of  one  who  has  had 
a  long  training  in  courts.  The  King  turned  sharply  upon 
him,  and  looked  hard  at  him  with  a  distrustful  eye. 

"  Good-day,  Abb£  Fene'lon,"  said  he.  "  May  I  ask  what 
the  object  of  this  interview  is  ?" 

"  You  have  had  the  condescension,  sire,  on  more  than 
one  occasion,  to  ask  my  humble  advice,  and  even  to  ex- 
press yourself  afterwards  as  being  pleased  that  you  had 
acted  upon  it." 

"  Well  ?     Well  ?     Well  ?"  growled  the  monarch. 

"  If  rumor  says  truly,  sire,  you  are  now  at  a  crisis  when  a 
word  of  impartial  counsel  might  be  of  value  to  you.  Need 
I  say  that  it  would — " 

"Tut!  tut!  Why  all  these  words?"  cried  the  King. 
"  You  have  been  sent  here  by  others  to  try  and  influence 
me  against  Madame  de  Maintenon." 

"  Sire,  I  have  had  nothing  but  kindness  from  that  lady. 
I  esteem  and  honor  her  more  than  any  lady  in  France." 

"  In  that  case,  abbe,  you  will,  I  am  sure,  be  glad  to  hear 
that  I  am  about  to  marry  her.  Good-day,  abbe.  I  regret 
that  I  have  not  longer  time  to  devote  to  this  very  interest- 
ing conversation." 

"  But,  sire—" 

"When  my  mind  is  in  doubt,  abbe,  I  value  your  advice 
very  highly.  On  this  occasion  my  mind  is  happily  not  in 
doubt.  I  have  the  honor  to  wish  you  a  very  good  day." 

The  King's  first  hot  anger  had  died  away  by  now,  and 
had  left  behind  it  a  cold,  bitter  spirit  which  was  even  more 
formidable  to  his  antagonists.  The  abbe,  glib  of  tongue 
and  fertile  of  resource  as  he  was,  felt  himself  to  be  silenced 
and  overmatched.  He  walked  backward,  with  three  long 
bows,  as  was  the  custom  of  the  court,  and  departed. 

But  the  King  had  little  breathing-space.  His  assailants 
knew  that  with  persistence  they  had  bent  his  will  before, 
and  they  trusted  that  they  might  do  so  again.  It  was 
Louvois,  the  minister,  now  who  entered  the  room,  with  his 
majestic  port,  his  lofty  bearing,  his  huge  wig,  and  his  aris- 
tocratic face,  which,  however,  showed  some  signs  of  trepida- 
tion as  it  met  the  baleful  eye  of  the  King. 

120 


"Well,  Louvois,  what  now?"  he  asked,  impatiently: 
"  Has  some  new  state  matter  arisen  ?" 

"There  is  but  one  new  state  matter  which  has  arisen, 
sire,  but  it  is  of  such  importance  as  to  banish  all  others 
from  our  mind." 

"  What,  then  ?" 

"  Your  marriage,  sire." 

"  You  disapprove  of  it  ?" 

"  Oh,  sire,  can  I  help  it  ?" 

"  Out  of  my  room,  sir  !  Am  I  to  be  tormented  to  death 
by  your  importunities  ?  What !  You  dare  to  linger  when 
I  order  you  to  go !"  The  King  advanced  angrily  upon  the 
minister,  but  Louvois  suddenly  flashed  out  his  rapier. 
Louis  sprang  back  with  alarm  and  amazement  upon  his 
face,  but  it  was  the  hilt  and  not  the  point  which  was  pre- 
sented to  him. 

"  Pass  it  through  my  heart,  sire !"  the  minister  cried,  fall- 
ing upon  his  knees,  his  whole  great  frame  in  a  quiver  with 
emotion.  "  I  will  not  live  to  see  your  glory  fade  !" 

"Great  Heaven!"  shrieked  Louis,  throwing  the  sword 
down  upon  the  ground,  and  raising  his  hands  to  his  tem- 
ples, "  I  believe  that  this  is  a  conspiracy  to  drive  me  mad. 
Was  ever  a  man  so  tormented  in  this  life  ?  This  will  be  a 
private  marriage,  man,  and  it  will  not  affect  the  state  in  the 
least  degree.  Do  you  hear  me  ?  Have  you  understood 
me  ?  What  more  do  you  want  ?" 

Louvois  gathered  himself  up,  and  shot  his  rapier  back 
into  its  sheath. 

"  Your  Majesty  is  determined  ?"  he  asked. 

"  Absolutely." 

"  Then  I  say  no  more.  I  have  done  my  duty."  He 
bowed  his  head  as  one  in  deep  dejection  when  he  departed, 
but  in  truth  his  heart  was  lightened  within  him,  for  he 
had  the  King's  assurance  that  the  woman  whom  he  hated 
would,  even  though  his  wife,  not  sit  on  the  throne  of  the 
Queens  of  France. 

These  repeated  attacks,  if  they  had  not  shaken  the 
King's  resolution,  had  at  least  irritated  and  exasperated 
him  to  the  utmost.  Such'  a  blast  of  opposition  was  a  new 

I  121 


Jhing  to  a  man  whose  will  had  been  the  one  law  of  the 
land.  It  left  him  ruffled  and  disturbed,  and  without  re- 
gretting his  resolution,  he  still,  with  unreasoning  petulance, 
felt  inclined  to  visit  the  inconvenience  to  which  he  had 
been  put  upon  those  whose  advice  he  had  followed.  He 
wore  accordingly  no  very  cordial  face  when  the  usher  in 
attendance  admitted  the  venerable  figure  of  Father  La 
Chaise,  his  confessor. 

"  I  wish  you  all  happiness,  sire,"  said  the  Jesuit,  "  and  I 
congratulate  you  from  my  heart  that  you  have  taken  the 
great  step  which  must  lead  to  content  both  in  this  world 
and  the  next." 

"  I  have  had  neither  happiness  nor  contentment  yet, 
father,"  answered  the  King,  peevishly.  "  I  have  never 
been  so  pestered  in  my  life.  The  whole  court  has  been 
on  its  knees  to  me  to  entreat  me  to  change  my  inten- 
tion." 

The  Jesuit  looked  at  him  anxiously  out  of  his  keen  gray 
eyes. 

"  Fortunately,  your  Majesty  is  a  man  of  strong  will,"  said 
he,  "and  not  to  be  so  easily  swayed  as  they  think." 

"  No,  no,  I  did  not  give  an  inch.  But  still,  it  must  be 
confessed  that  it  is  very  unpleasant  to  have  so  many 
against  one.  I  think  that  most  men  would  have  been 
shaken." 

"  Now  is  the  time  to  stand  firm,  sire ,  Satan  rages  to 
see  you  passing  out  of  his  power,  and  he  stirs  up  all  his 
friends  and  sends  all  his  emissaries  to  endeavor  to  de- 
tain you." 

But  the  King  was  not  in  a  humor  to  be  easily  con- 
soled. 

"  Upon  my  word,  father,"  said  he,  "  you  do  not  seem  to 
have  much  respect  for  my  family.  My  brother  and  my 
son,  with  the  Abbe  Fenelon  and  the  Minister  of  War,  are 
the  emissaries  to  whom  you  allude." 

"Then  there  is  the  more  credit  to  your  Majesty  for  hav- 
ing resisted  them.  You  have  done  nobly,  sire.  You  have 
earned  the  praise  and  blessing  of  Holy  Church." 

"  1  trust  that  what  I  have  done  is  right,  father,"  said  the 

122 


King,  gravely.  "  I  should  be  glad  to  see  you  again  later  in 
the  evening,  but  at  present  I  desire  a  little  leisure  for  soli- 
tary thought." 

Father  La  Chaise  left  the  cabinet  with  a  deep  distrust  of 
the  King's  intentions.  It  was  obvious  that  the  powerful 
appeals  which  had  been  made  to  him  had  shaken  if  they 
had  failed  to  alter  his  resolution.  What  would  be  the  result 
if  more  were  made  ?  And  more  would  be  made ,  that  was 
as  certain  as  that  darkness  follows  light.  Some  master- 
card must  be  played  now  which  would  bring  the  matter  to  a 
crisis  at  once,  for  every  day  of  delay  was  in  favor  of  their 
opponents.  To  hesitate  was  to  lose.  All  must  be  staked 
upon  one  final  throw. 

The  Bishop  of  Meaux  was  waiting  in  the  anteroom,  and 
Father  La  Chaise  in  a  few  brief  words  let  him  see  the  danger 
of  the  situation,  and  the  means  by  which  they  should  meet 
it.  Together  they  sought  Madame  de  Maintenon  in  her 
room.  She  had  discarded  the  sombre  widow's  dress  which 
she  had  chosen  since  her  first  coming  to  court,  and  wore 
now,  as  more  in  keeping  with  her  lofty  prospects,  a  rich  yet 
simple  costume  of  white  satin  with  bows  of  silver  serge.  A 
single  diamond  sparkled  in  the  thick  coils  of  her  dark 
tresses.  The  change  had  taken  years  from  a  face  and  fig- 
ure which  had  always  looked  much  younger  than  her  age, 
and  as  the  two  plotters  looked  upon  her  perfect  complex- 
ion, her  regular  features,  so  calm  and  yet  so  full  of  refine- 
ment, and  the  exquisite  grace  of  her  figure  and  bearing, 
they  could  not  but  feel  that  if  they  failed  in  their  ends, 
it  was  not  for  want  of  having  a  perfect  tool  at  their  com- 
mand. 

She  had  risen  at  their  entrance,  and  her  expression 
showed  that  she  had  read  upon  their  faces  something  of 
the  anxiety  which  filled  their  minds. 

"  You  have  evil  news  !"  she  cried. 

"  No,  no,  my  daughter."  It  was  the  Bishop  who  spoke. 
"  But  we  must  be  on  our  guard  against  our  enemies,  who 
would  turn  the  King  away  from  you  if  they  could." 

Her  face  shone  at  the  mention  of  her  lover.  "  Ah,  you 
do  not  know !"  she  cried.  "  He  has  made  a  vow.  I  would 

123 


trust  him  as  I  would  trust  myself.     I  know  that  he  will  be 
true." 

But  the  Jesuit's  intellect  was  arrayed  against  the  intuition 
of  the  woman. 

"  Our  opponents  are  many  and  strong,"  said  he,  shaking 
his  head.  "  Even  if  the  King  remain  firm,  he  will  be  an- 
noyed at  every  turn,  so  that  he  will  feel  his  life  is  darker 
instead  of  lighter,  save,  of  course,  madame,  for  that  bright- 
ness which  you  cannot  fail  to  bring  with  you.  We  must 
bring  the  matter  to  an  end." 

"  And  how,  father  ?" 

"  The  marriage  must  be  at  once  !" 

"At  once!" 

"  Yes.    This  very  night,  if  possible." 

"  Oh,  father,  you  ask  too  much.  The  King  would  never 
consent  to  such  a  proposal." 

"  It  is  he  that  will  propose  it." 

"  And  why  ?" 

"  Because  we  shall  force  him  to.  It  is  only  thus  that  all 
opposition  can  be  stopped.  When  it  is  done,  the  court  will 
accept  it.  Until  it  is  done,  they  will  resist  it." 

"  What  would  you  have  me  do,  then,  father  ?" 

"  Resign  the  King." 

"  Resign  him  !"  She  turned  as  pale  as  a  lily,  and  looked 
at  him  in  bewilderment. 

"  It  is  the  best  course,  madame." 

"  Ah,  father,  I  might  have  done  it  last  month,  last  week, 
even  yesterday  morning.  But  now — oh,  it  would  break  my 
heart !" 

"  Fear  not,  madame,,  We  advise  you  for  the  best.  Go 
to  the  King  now,  at  once.  Say  to  him  that  you  have  heard 
that  he  has  been  subjected  to  much  annoyance  upon  your 
account,  that  you  cannot  bear  to  think  that  you  should  be 
a  cause  of  dissension  in  his  own  family,  and  that  therefore 
you  will  release  him  from  his  promise,  and  will  withdraw 
yourself  from  the  court  forever." 

"  Go  now  ?    At  once  ?" 

"  Yes,  without  loss  of  an  instant." 

She  cast  a  light  mantle  about  her  shoulders. 

124 


"  I  follow  your  advice,"  she  said.  "  I  believe  that  you 
are  wiser  than  I.  But,  oh,  if  he  should  take  me  at  my 
word !" 

"  He  will  not  take  you  at  your  word." 

"  It  is  a  terrible  risk." 

"But  such  an  end  as  this  cannot  be  gained  without 
risks.  Go,  my  child,  and  may  Heaven's  blessing  go  with 
you !" 


CHAPTER    XIII 
THE   KING   HAS    IDEAS 

THE  King  had  remained  alone  in  his  cabinet,  wrapped  in 
somewhat  gloomy  thoughts,  and  pondering  over  the  means 
by  which  he  might  carry  out  his  purpose  and  yet  smooth 
away  the  opposition  which  seemed  to  be  so  strenuous  and 
so  universal.  Suddenly  there  came  a  gentle  tap  at  the  door, 
and  there  was  the  woman  who  was  in  his  thoughts,  stand- 
ing in  the  twilight  before  him.  He  sprang  to  his  feet  and 
held  out  his  hands  with  a  smile  which  would  have  reassured 
her  had  she  doubted  his  constancy. 

"  Frangoise  !  You  here  !  Then  I  have  at  last  a  welcome 
visitor,  and  it  is  the  first  one  to-day." 

"  Sire,  I  fear  that  you  have  been  troubled." 

"I  have  indeed,  Frangoise." 

"  But  I  have  a  remedy  for  it." 

"  And  what  is  that  ?" 

"I  shall  leave  the  court,  sire,  and  you  shall  think  no 
more  of  what  has  passed  between  us.  I  have  brought  dis- 
cord where  I  meant  to  bring  peace.  Let  me  retire  to  St. 
Cyr,  or  to  the  Abbey  of  Fontevrault,  and  you  will  no  longer 
be  called  upon  to  make  such  sacrifices  for  my  sake." 

The  King  turned  deathly  pale,  and  clutched  at  her  shawl 
with  a  trembling  hand,  as  though  he  feared  that  she  was 
about  to  put  her  resolution  into  effect  that  very  instant. 
For  years  his  mind  had  accustomed  itself  to  lean  upon  hers. 
He  had  turned  to  her  whenever  he  needed  support,  and 
even  when,  as  in  the  last  week,  he  had  broken  away  from 
her  for  a  time,  it  was  still  all-important  to  him  to  know  that 
she  was  there,  the  faithful  friend,  ever  forgiving,  ever  sooth- 
ing, waiting  for  him  with  her  ready  counsel  and  sympathy. 

126 


But  that  she  should  leave  him  now,  leave  him  altogether, 
such  a  thought  had  never  occurred  to  him,  and  it  struck 
him  with  a  chill  of  surprised  alarm. 

"You  cannot  mean  it,  Franchise,"  he  cried,  in  a  trembling 
voice.  "No,  no,  it  is  impossible  that  you  are  in  earnest." 

"  It  would  break  my  heart  to  leave  you,  sire,  but  it  breaks 
it  also  to  think  that  for  my  sake  you  are  estranged  from 
your  own  family  and  ministers." 

"  Tut !  Am  I  not  the  King  ?  Shall  I  not  take  my  own 
course  without  heed  to  them  ?  No,  no,  Frangoise,  you  must 
not  leave  me !  You  must  stay  with  me  and  be  my  wife." 
He  could  hardly  speak  for  agitation,  and  he  still  grasped  at 
her  dress  to  detain  her.  She  had  been  precious  to  him 
before,  but  was  far  more  so  now  that  there  seemed  to  be 
a  possibility  of  his  losing  her.  She  felt  the  strength  of  her 
position,  and  used  it  to  the  utmost. 

"  Some  time  must  elapse  before  our  wedding,  sire.  Yet 
during  all  that  interval  you  will  be  exposed  to  these  annoy- 
ances. How  can  I  be  happy  when  I  feel  that  I  have 
brought  upon  you  so  long  a  period  of  discomfort  ?" 

"  And  why  should  it  be  so  long,  Frangoise  ?" 

"  A  day  would  be  too  long,  sire,  for  you  to  be  unhappy 
through  my  fault.  It  is  a  misery  to  me  to  think  of  it.  Be- 
lieve me,  it  would  be  better  that  I  should  leave  you." 

"  Never  !  You  shall  not !  Why  should  we  even  wait  a 
day,  Frangoise  ?  I  am  ready.  You  are  ready.  Why  should 
we  not  be  married  now  ?" 

"  At  once  !     Oh,  sire  !" 

"  We  shall.  It  is  my  wish.  It  is  my  order.  That  is  my 
answer  to  those  who  would  drive  me.  They  shall  know 
nothing  of  it  until  it  is  done,  and  then  let  us  see  which  of 
them  will  dare  to  treat  my  wife  with  anything  but  respect. 
Let  it  be  done  secretly,  Frangoise.  I  will  send  in  a  trusty 
messenger  this  very  night  for  the  Archbishop  of  Paris,  and 
I  swear  that,  if  all  France  stand  in  the  way,  he  shall  make 
us  man  and  wife  before  he  departs." 

"  Is  it  your  will,  sire  ?" 

"  It  is ;  and,  ah,  I  can  see  by  your  eyes  that  it  is  yours 
also !  We  shall  not  lose  a  moment,  Frangoise.  What  a 

127 


blessed  thought  of  mine,  which  will  silence  their  tongues 
forever !  When  it  is  ready  they  may  know,  but  not  before. 
To  your  room,  then,  dearest  of  friends  and  truest  of  women  ! 
When  we  meet  again,  it  will  be  to  form  a  band  which  all 
this  court  and  all  this  kingdom  shall  not  be  able  to  loose." 

The  King  was  all  on  fire  with  the  excitement  of  this  new 
resolution.  He  had  lost  his  air  of  doubt  and  discontent, 
and  he  paced  swiftly  about  the  room  with  a  smiling  face 
and  shining  eyes.  Then  he  touched  a  small  gold  bell, 
which  summoned  Bon  terns,  his  private  body-servant. 

"  What  o'clock  is  it,  Bontems  ?" 

"  It  is  nearly  six,  sire." 

"  Hum !"      The    King    considered    for  some   moments. 

"  Do  you  know  where  Captain  de  Catinat  is,  Bontems  ?" 

"  He  was  in  the  grounds,  sire,  but  I  heard  that  he  would 
ride  back  to  Paris  to-night." 

"  Does  he  ride  alone  ?" 

"  He  has  one  friend  with  him." 

"  Who  is  this  friend  ?     An  officer  of  the  guards  ?" 

"  No,  sire  ;  it  is  a  stranger  from  over  the  seas,  from 
America,  as  I  understand,  who  has  stayed  with  him  of  late, 
and  to  whom  Monsieur  de  Catinat  has  been  showing  the 
wonders  of  your  Majesty's  palace." 

"  A  stranger !  So  much  the  better.  Go,  Bontenfc,  and 
bring  them  both  to  me." 

"I  trust  that  they  have  not  started,  sire.  I  will  see." 
He  hurried  off,  and  was  back  in  ten  minutes  in  the  cabinet 
once  more. 

"  Well  ?" 

"  I  have  been  fortunate,  sire;  Their  horses  had  been  led 
out  and  their  feet  were  in  the  stirrups  when  I  reached 
them." 

"  Where  are  they,  then  ?" 

"  They  await  your  Majesty's  orders  in  the  anteroom." 

"  Show  them  in,  Bontems,  and  give  admission  to  none, 
not  even  to  the  minister,  until  they  have  left  me." 

To  de  Catinat  an  audience  with  the  monarch  was  a  com- 
mon incident  of  his  duties,  but  it  was  with  profound  aston- 
ishment that  he  learned  from  Bontems  that  his  friend  and 

128 


companion  was  included  in  the  order.  He  was  eagerly  en- 
deavoring to  whisper  into  the  young  American's  ear  some 
precepts  and  warnings  as  to  what  to  do  andtvhat  to  avoid, 
when  Bontems  reappeared  and  ushered  them  into  the  pres- 
ence. 

It  was  with  a  feeling  of  curiosity,  not  unmixed  with  awe, 
that  Amos  Green,  to  whom  Governor  Dongan,  of  New  York, 
had  been  the  highest  embodiment  of  human  power,  entered 
the  private  chamber  of  the  greatest  monarch  in  Christen- 
dom. The  magnificence  of  the  antechamber  in  which  he 
had  waited,  the  velvets,  the  paintings,  the  gildings,  with  the 
throng  of  gayly  dressed  officials  and  of  magnificent  guards- 
men, had  all  impressed  his  imagination,  and  had  prepared 
him  for  some  wondrous  figure  robed  and  crowned,  a  fit 
centre  for  such  a  scene.  As  his  eyes  fell  upon  a  quietly 
dressed,  bright-eyed  man,  half  a  head  shorter  than  himself, 
with  a  trim  dapper  figure  and  an  erect  carriage,  he  could 
not  help  glancing  round  the  room  to  see  if  this  were  indeed 
the  monarch,  or  if  it  were  some  other  of  those  endless  of- 
ficials who  interposed  themselves  between  him  and  the 
outer  world.  The  reverent  salute  of  his  companion,  how- 
ever, showed  him  that  this  must  indeed  be  the  King,  so  he 
bowed,  and  then  drew  himself  erect  with  the  simple  dignity 
of  a  m  in  who  had  been  trained  in  nature's  school. 

"  Good-evening,  Captain  de  Catinat,"  said  the  King,  with 
a  pleasant  smile.  "  Your  friend,  as  I  understand,  is  a 
stranger  to  this  country.  I  trust,  sir,  that  you  have  found 
something  here  to  interest  and  to  amuse  you  ?" 

"  Yes,  your  Majesty.  I  have  seen  your  great  city,  and  it 
is  a  wonderful  one.  And  my  friend  has  shown  me  this 
palace,  with  its  woods  and  its  grounds.  When  I  go  back  to 
my  own  country  I  will  have  much  to  say  of  what  I  have 
seen  in  your  beautiful  land." 

"You  speak  French,  and  yet  you  are  not  a  Canadian." 
"  No,  sire  ;  I  am  from  the  English  provinces." 
The  King  looked  with  interest  at  the  powerful  figure,  the 
bold  features,  and  the  free  bearing  of  the  young  foreigner, 
and  his  mind  flashed  back  to  the  dangers  which  the  Comte 
de  Frontenac  had  foretold  from  these  same  colonies.     If 

129 


this  were  indeed  a  type  of  his  race,  they  must  in  truth  be  a 
people  whom  it  would  be  better  to  have  as  friends  than  as 
enemies.  His  mind,  however,  ran  at  present  on  other  things 
than  state -craft,  and  he  haste'ned  to  give  de  Catinat  his 
orders  for  the  night. 

"  You  will  ride  into  Paris  on  my  service.     Your  friend 
can  go  with  you.     Two  are  safer  than  one  when  they  bear 
a  message   of   state.     I  wish  you,  however,  to   wait  until 
nightfall  before  you  start." 
"  Yes,  sire." 

"  Let  none  know  your  errand,  and  see  that  none  follow 
you.     You  know  the  house  of  Archbishop  Harlay,  prelate 
of  Paris  ?" 
"  Yes,  sire." 

"You  will  bid  him  drive  out  hither  and  be  at  the  north- 
west side  postern  by  midnight.  Let  nothing  hold  him  back. 
Storm  or  fine,  he  must  be  here  to-night.  It  is  of  the  first 
importance." 

"  He  shall  have  your  order,  sire." 

"  Very  good.  Adieu,  Captain.  Adieu,  monsieur.  I  trust 
that  your  stay  in  France  may  be  a  pleasant  one."  He-waved 
his  hand,  smiling  with  the  fascinating  grace  which  had  won 
so  many  hearts,  and  so  dismissed  the  two  friends  to  their 
new  mission. 


CHAPTER   XIV 
THE     LAST    CARD. 

MADAME  DE  MONTESPAN  still  kept  her*rooms,  uneasy  in 
mind  at  the  King's  disappearance,  but  unwilling  to  show 
her  anxiety  to  the  court  by  appearing  among  them,  or  by 
making  any  inquiry  as  to  what  had  occurred.  While  she 
thus  remained  in  ignorance  of  the  sudden  and  complete 
collapse  of  her  fortunes,  she  had  one  active  and  energetic 
agent  who  had  lost  no  incident  of  what  had  occurred,  and 
who  watched  her  interests  with  as  much  zeal  as  if  they  were 
his  own.  And  indeed  they  were  his  own  ;  for  her  brother, 
Monsieur  de  Vivonne,  had  gained  everything  for  which  he 
yearned,  money,  lands,  and  preferment,  through  his  sister's 
notoriety,  and  he  well  knew  that  the  fall  of  her  fortunes 
must  be  very  rapidly  followed  by  that  of  his  own.  By  nat- 
ure bold,  unscrupulous,  and  resourceful,  he  was  not  a  man 
to  lose  the  game  without  playing  it  out  to  the  very  end 
with  all  the  energy  and  cunning  of  which  he  was  capable. 
Keenly  alert  to  all  that  passed,  he  had,  from  the  time  that 
he  first  heard  the  rumor  of  the  King's  intention,  haunted 
the  antechamber  and  drawn  his  own  conclusions  from  what 
he  had  seen.  Nothing  had  escaped  him — the  disconsolate 
faces  of  Monsieur  and  of  the  Dauphin,  the  visit  of  Pere  La 
Chaise  and  Bossuet  to  the  lady's  room,  her  return,  the  tri- 
umph which  shone  in  her  eyes  as  she  came  away  from  the 
interview.  He  had  seen  Bontems  hurry  off  and  summon 
the  guardsman  and  his  friend.  He  had  heard  them  order 
their  horses  to  be  brought  out  in  a  couple  of  hours'  time, 
and  finally  from  a  spy  whom  he  employed  among  the  serv- 
ants he  learned  that  an  unwonted  bustle  was  going  forward 
in  Madame  de  Maintenon's  room,  that  Mademoiselle  Nanon 

131 


was  half  wild  with  excitement,  and  that  two  court  milliners 
had  been  hastily  summoned  to  madame's  apartment.  It 
was.  only,  however,  when  he  heard  from  the  same  servant 
that  a  chamber  was  to  be  prepared  for  the  reception  that 
night  of  the  Archbishop  of  Paris  that  he  understood  how 
urgent  was  the  danger. 

Madame  de  Montespan  had  spent  the  evening  stretched 
upon  a  sofa,  in  the  worst  possible  humor  with  every  one 
around  her.  She  had  read,  but  had  tossed  aside  the  book. 
She  had  written,  but  had  torn  up  the  paper.  A  thousand 
fears  and  suspicions  chased  each  other  through  her  head. 
What  had  become  of  the  King,  then  ?  He  had  seemed 
cold  yesterday,  and  his  eyes  had  been  forever  sliding  round 
to  the  clock.  And  to-day  he  had  not  come  at  all.  Was  it 
his  gout,  perhaps  ?  Or  was  it  possible  that  she  was  again 
losing  her  hold  upon  him  ?  Surely  it  could  not  be  that ! 
She  turned  upon  her  couch  and  faced  the  mirror  which 
flanked  the  door.  The  candles  had  just  been  lit  in  her 
chamber,  two-score  of  them,  each  with  silver  sconces  which 
threw  back  their  light  until  the  room  was  as  bright  as  day. 
There  in  the  mirror  was  the  brilliant  chamber,  the  deep  red 
ottoman,  and  the  single  figure  in  its  gauzy  dress  of  white 
and  silver.  She  leaned  upon  her  elbow,  admiring  the  deep 
tint  of  her  own  eyes  with  their  long  dark  lashes,  the  white 
curve  of  her  throat,  and  the  perfect  oval  of  her  face.  She 
examined  it  all  carefully,  keenly,  as  though  it  were  her  rival 
that  lay  before  her,  but  nowhere  could  she  see  a  scratch  of 
Time's  malicious  nails.  She  still  had  her  beauty,  then. 
And  if  it  had  once  won  the  King,  why  should  it  not  suffice 
to  hold  him  ?  Of  course  it  would  do  so.  She  reproached 
herself  for  her  fears.  Doubtless  he  was  indisposed,  or  per- 
haps he  would  come  still.  Ha !  there  was  the  sound  of  an 
opening  door  and  of  a  quick  step  in  her  anteroom.  Was  it 
he,  or  at  least  his  messenger  with  a  note  front  him  ! 

But  no,  it  was  her  brother,  with  the  haggard  eyes  and 
drawn  face  of  a  man  who  is  weighed  down  with  his  own 
evil  tidings.  He  turned  as  he  entered,  fastened  the  door, 
and  then  striding  across  the  room,  locked  the  other  one 
which  led  to  her  boudoir. 

132 


"  We  are  safe  from  interruption,"  he  panted.  "  I  have 
hastened  here,  for  every  second  may  be  invaluable.  Have 
you  heard  anything  from  the  King  ?" 

"  Nothing."  She  had  sprung  to  her  feet,  and  was  gazing 
at  him  with  a  face  which  was  as  pale  as  his  own. 

"  The  hour  has  come  for  action,  Frangoise.  It  is  the 
hour  at  which  the  Mortemarts  have  always  shown  at  their 
best.  Do  not  yield  to  the  blow,  then,  but  gather  yourself 
to  meet  it." 

"  What  is  it  ?"  She  tried  to  speak  in  her  natural  tone, 
but  only  a  whisper  came  to  her  dry  lips. 

"The  King  is  about  to  marry  Madame  de  Maintenon." 

"The  gouvernante!  The  widow  Scarron !  It  is  im- 
possible !" 

"  It  is  certain." 

"  To  marry  ?     Did  you  say  to  marry?" 

"  Yes,  he  will  marry  her." 

The  woman  flung  out  her  hands  in  a  gesture  of  contempt, 
and  laughed  loud  and  bitterly. 

"  You  are  easily  frightened,  brother,"  said  she.  "  Ah, 
you  do  not  know  your  little  sister.  Perchance  if  you  were 
not  my  brother  you  might  rate  my  powers  more  highly. 
Give  me  a  day,  only  one  little  day,  and  you  will  see  Louis, 
the  proud  Louis,  down  at  the  hem  of  my  dress  to  ask  my  par- 
don for  this  slight.  I  tell  you  that  he  cannot  break  the  bonds 
that  hold  him.  One  day  is  all  I  ask  to  bring  him  back." 

""  But  you  cannot  have  it." 

"  What  ?" 

"  The  marriage  is  to-night." 

"  You  are  mad,  Charles." 

"  I  am  certain  of  it."  In  a  few  broken  sentences  he 
shot  out  all  that  he  had  seen  and  heard.  She  listened 
with  a  grim  face,  and  hands  which  closed  ever  tighter  and 
tighter  as  he  proceeded.  But  he  had  said  the  truth  about 
the  Mortemarts.  They  came  of  a  contentious  blood,  and 
were  ever  at  their  best  at  a  moment  of  action.  Hate  rather 
than  dismay  filled  her  heart  as  she  listened,  and  the  whole 
energy  of  her  nature  gathered  and  quickened  to  meet  the 
crisis. 

i33 


"  I  shall  go  and  see  him,"  she  cried,  sweeping  towards 
the  door. 

"  No,  no,  Franchise.  Believe  me,  you  will  ruin  every- 
thing if  you  do.  Strict  orders  have  been  given  to  the 
guard  to  admit  no  one  to  the  King." 

"  But  I  shall  insist  upon  passing  them." 

"  Believe  me,  sister,  it  is  worse  than  useless.  I  have 
spoken  with  the  officer  of  the  guard,  and  the  command  is  a 
stringent  one." 

"Ah,  I  shall  manage." 

"  No,  you  shall  not."  He  put  his  back  against  the  door. 
"  I  know  that  it  is  useless,  and  I  will  not  have  my  sister 
make  herself  the  laughing-stock  of  the  court,  trying  to 
force  her  way  into  the  room  of  a  man  who  repulses  her." 

His  sister's  cheeks  flushed  at  the  words,  and  she  paused 
irresolute. 

"  Had  I  only  a  day,  Charles,  I  am  sure  that  I  could 
bring  him  back  to  me.  There  has  been  some  other  influ- 
ence here,  that  meddlesome  Jesuit  or  the  pompous  Bossuet, 
perhaps.  Only  one  day  to  counteract  their  wiles  !  Can  I 
not  see  them  waving  hell-fire  before  his  foolish  eyes,  as  one 
swings  a  torch  before  a  bull  to  turn  it?  Oh,  if  I  could  but 
balk  them  to-night !  That  woman  !  that  cursed  woman ! 
The  foul  viper  which  I  nursed  in  my  bosom !  Oh,  I  had 
rather  see  Louis  in  his  grave  than  married  to  her !  Charles, 
Charles,  it  must  be  stopped  -,  I  say  it  must  be  stopped  !  ^  I 
will  give  anything,  everything,  to  prevent  it !" 

"  What  will  you  give,  my  sister  ?" 

She  looked  at  him  aghast.  "  What !  you  do  not  wish 
me  to  buy  you  ?"  she  said. 

"No;  but  I  wish  to  buy  others." 

"  Ha !     You  see  a  chance,  then  !" 

"  One,  and  one  bnly.    But  time  presses.    I  want  money." 

"How  much?" 

"  I  cannot  have  too  much.     All  that  you  can  spare." 

With  hands  which  trembled  with  eagerness  she  un- 
locked a  secret  cupboard  in  the  wall  in  which  she  con- 
cealed her  valuables.  A  blaze  of  jewelry  met  her  brother's 
eyes  as  he  peered  over  her  shoulder.  Great  rubies,  costly 

134 


emeralds,  deep  ruddy  beryls,  glimmering  diamonds,  were 
scattered  there  in  one  brilliant  shimmering  many-colored 
heap,  the  harvest  which  she  had  reaped  from  the  King's 
generosity  during  more  than  fifteen  years.  At  one  side 
were  three  drawers,  the  one  over  the  other.  She  drew  out 
the  lowest  one.  It  was  full  to  the  brim  of  glittering  louis 
d'ors. 

"  Take  what  you  will !"  she  said.     "  And  now  your  plan  ! 
Quick !" 

He  stuffed  the  money  in  handfuls  into  the  side  pockets 
of  his  coat.     Coins  slipped  between  his  fingers  and  tinkled 
and  wheeled  over  the  floor,  but 
neither  cast  a  glance  at  them. 

"  Your  plan  ?"  she  repeated. 

"We  must  prevent  the  Arch- 
bishop from  arriving  here.  Then 
the  marriage  would  be  postponed 
until  to-morrow  night,  and  you 
would  have  time  to  act." 

"  But  how  prevent  it  ?" 

"There  are  a  dozen  good  ra- 
piers about  the  court  which  are 
to  be  bought  for  less  than  I  carry 
in  one  pocket.  There  is  de  la 
Touche,  young  Turberville,  old 
Major  Despard,  Raymond  de 
Carnac,  and  the  four  Latours. 
I  will  gather  them  together,  and 
wait  on  the  road." 

"  And  waylay  the  Archbishop?" 

"  No ;  the  messengers." 

"Oh,  excellent!  ,  You  are  a 
prince  of  brothers !  If  no  mes- 
sage reach  Paris,  we  are  saved. 
Go ;  go ;  do  not  lose  a  moment, 
my  dear  Charles." 

"  It  is  very  well,  Franchise ;  but  what  are  we  to  do  with 
them  when  we  get  them  ?     We  may  lose  our  heads  over 
the  matter,  it  seems  to  me.     After  all,  they  are  the  King's 
K  135 


THE   PAGE 


messengers,  and  we  can  scarce  pass  our  swords  through 
them." 

"  No  ?" 

"  There  would  be  no  forgiveness  for  that." 

"But  consider  that  before  the  matter  is  looked  into  I 
shall  have  regained  my  influence  with  the  King." 

"  All  very  fine,  my  little  sister,  but  how  long  is  your  in- 
fluence to  last?  A  pleasant  life  for  us  if  at  every  change 
of  favor  we  have  to  fly  the  country !  No,  no,  Franchise ; 
the  most  that  we  can  do  is  to  detain  the  messengers." 

"  Where  can  you  detain  them  ?" 

"I  have  thought  of  that.  There  is  the  castle  of  the 
Marquis  de  Montespan  at  Portillac." 

"  Of  my  husband  !" 

"  Precisely." 

"  Of  my  most  bitter  enemy !  Oh,  Charles,  you  are  not 
serious." 

"  On  the  contrary,  I  was  never  more  so.  The  Marquis 
was  away  in  Paris  yesterday,  and  has  not  yet  returned. 
Where  is  the  ring  with  his  arms  ?" 

She  hunted  among  her  jewels  and  picked  out  a  gold  ring 
with  a  broad  engraved  face. 

"This  will  be  our  key.  When  good  Marceau,  the  stew- 
ard, sees  it,  every  dungeon  in  the  castle  will  be  at  our  dis- 
posal. It  is  that  or  nothing.  There  is  no  other  place 
where  we  can  hold  them  safe." 

"  But  when  my  husband  returns  ?" 

"Ah,  he  may  be  a  little  puzzled  as  to  his  captives.  And 
the  complaisant  Marceau  may  have  an  evil  quarter  of  an 
hour.  But  that  may  not  be  for  a  week,  and  by  that  time, 
my  little  sister,  I  have  confidence  enough  in  you  to  think 
that  you  really  may  have  finished  the  campaign.  Not  an- 
other word,  for  every  moment  is  of  value.  Adieu,  Fran- 
goise !  We  shall  not  be  conquered  without  a  struggle.  I 
will  send  a  message  to  you  to-night  to  let  you  know  how 
fortune  uses  us."  He  took  her  fondly  in  his  arms,  kissed 
her,  and  then  hurried  from  the  room. 

For  hours  after  his  departure  she  paced  up  and  down 
with  noiseless  steps  upon  the  deep  soft  carpet,  her  hands 

136 


still  clinched,  her  eyes  flaming,  her  whole  soul  wrapped 
and  consumed  with  jealousy  and  hatred  of  her  rival.  Ten 
struck,  and  eleven,  and  midnight,  but  still  she  waited,  fierce 
and  eager,  straining  her  ears  for  every  footfall  which  might 
be  the  herald  of  news.  At  last  it  came.  She  heard  the 
quick  step  in  the  passage,  the  tap  at  the  anteroom  door, 
and  the  whispering  of  her  black  page.  Quivering  with 
impatience,  she  rushed  in  and  took  the  note  herself  from 
the  dusty  cavalier  who  had  brought  it.  It  was  but  six 
words  scrawled  roughly  upon  a  wisp  of  dirty  paper,  but  it 
brought  the  color  back  to  her  cheeks  and  the  smile  to  her 
lips.  It  was  her  brother's  writing,  and  it  ran,  "  The  Arch- 
bishop will  not  come  to-night." 


CHAPTER   XV 
THE    MIDNIGHT    MISSION 

DE  CATINAT  in  the  mean  while  was  perfectly  aware  of 
the  importance  of  the  mission  which  had  been  assigned  to 
him.  The  secrecy  which  had  been  enjoined  by  the  King, 
his  evident  excitement,  and  the  nature  of  his  orders,  all  con- 
firmed the  rumors  which  were  already  beginning  to  buzz 
round  the  court.  He  iJhew  enough  of  the  intrigues  and  an- 
tagonisms with  which  the  court  was  full  to  understand  that 
every  precaution  was  necessary  in  carrying  out  his  instruc- 
tions. He  waited,  therefore,  until  night  had  fallen  before 
ordering  his  soldier-servant  to  bring  round  the  two  horses 
to  one  of  the  less  public  gates  of  the  grounds.  As  he  and 
his  friend  walked  together  to  the  spot,  he  gave  the  young 
American  a  rapid  sketch  of  the  situation  at  the  court,  and 
of  the  chance  that  this  nocturnal  ride  might  be  an  event 
which  would  affect  the  future  history  of  France. 

"  I  like  your  King,"  said  Amos  Green,  "  and  I  am  glad 
to  ride  in  his  service.  He  is  a  slip  of  a  man  to  be  the  head 
of  a  great  nation,  but  he  has  the  eye  of  a  chief.  If  one  met 
him  alone  in  a  Maine  forest,  one  would  know  him  as  a  man 
who  was  different  to  his  fellows.  Well,  I  am  glad  that  he 
is  going  to  marry  again,  though  it's  a  great  house  for  any 
woman  to  have  to  look  after." 

De  Catinat  smiled  at  his  comrade's  idea  of  a  queen's 
duties. 

"  Are  you  armed  ?"  he  asked.  "  You  have  no  sword  or 
pistols?" 

"  No ;  if  I  may  not  carry  my  gun,  I  had  rather  not  be 
troubled  by  tools  that  I  have  never  learned  to  use.  I  have 
my  knife.  But  why  do  you  ask  ?" 

138 


"  Because  there  may  be  danger." 

"And  how?" 

"  Many  have  an  interest  in  stopping  this  marriage.  All 
the  first  men  of  the  kingdom  are  bitterly  against  it.  If 
they  could  stop  us,  they  would  stop  //,  for  to-night  at  least." 

"  But  I  thought  it  was  secret  ?" 

"  There  is  no  such  thing  at  a  court.  There  is  the  Dau- 
phin, or  the  King's  brother,  either  of  them,  or  any  of  their 
friends,  would  be  right  glad  that  we  should  be  in  the  Seine 
before  we  reached  the  Archbishop's  house  this  night.  But 
who  is  this  ?" 

A  burly  figure  had  loomed  up  through  the  gloom  on  the 
path  upon  which  they  were  going.  As  it  approached,  a 
colored  lamp  dangling  from  one  of  the  trees  shone  upon 
the  blue  and  silver  of  an  officer  of  the  guards.  It  was 
Major  de  Brissac,  of  de  Catinat's  own  regiment. 

"  Hullo  !     Whither  away  ?"  he  asked. 

"  To  Paris,  Major." 

"  I  go  there  myself  within  an  hour.  Will  you  not  wait, 
that  we  may  go  together  ?" 

"  I  am  sorry,  but  I  ride  on  a  matter  of  urgency.  I  must 
not  lose  a  minute." 

"  Very  good.     Good-night,  and  a  pleasant  ride." 

"  Is  he  a  trusty  man,  our  friend  the  Major  ?"  asked  Amos 
Green,  glancing  back. 

"True  as  steel." 

"  Then  I  would  have  a  word  with  him."  The  American 
hurried  back  along  the  way  they  had  come,  while  de  Cati- 
nat  stood  chafing  at  this  unnecessary  delay.  It  was  a  full 
five  minutes  before  his  companion  joined  him,  and  the  fiery 
blood  of  the  French  soldier  was  hot  with  impatience  and 
anger. 

"  I  think  that  perhaps  you  had  best  ride  into  Paris  at 
your  leisure,  my  friend,"  said  he.  "  If  I  go  upon  the  King's 
service  I  cannot  be  delayed  whenever  the  whim  takes  you." 

"  I  am  sorry,"  answered  the  other,  quietly.  "  I  had  some- 
thing to  say  to  your  Major,  and  I  thought  that  maybe  I 
might  not  see  him  again." 

"  Well,  here  are  the  horses,"  said  the  guardsman  as  he 

139 


pushed  open  the  postern-gate.      "Have  you  fed  and  wa- 
tered them,  Jaques  ?" 

"  Yes,  my  Captain,"  answered  the  man  who  stood  at  their 
head. 

"  Boot  and  saddle,  then,  friend  Green,  and  we  shall  not 
draw  rein  again  until  we  see  the  lights  of  Paris  in  front  of 
us." 

The  soldier -groom  peered  through  the  darkness  after 
them  with  a  sardonic  smile  upon  his  face.  "You  won't 
draw  rein,  won't  you  ?"  he  muttered  as  he  turned  away. 
-"  Well,  we  shall  see  about  that,  my  Captain ;  we  shall  see 
about  that." 

For  a  mile  or  more  the  comrades  galloped  along,  neck  to 
neck  and  knee  to  knee.  A  wind  had  sprung  up  from  the 
westward,  and  the  heavens  were  covered  with  heavy  gray 
clouds,  which  drifted  swiftly  across,  a  crescent  moon  peep- 
ing fitfully  from  time  to  time  between  the  rifts.  Even  dur- 
ing these  moments  of  brightness  the  road,  shadowed  as  it 
was  by  heavy  trees,  was  very  dark,  but  when  the  light  was 
shut  off  it  was  hard,  but  for  the  loom  upon  either  side,  to 
tell  where  it  lay.  De  Catinat  at  least  found  it  so,  and  he 
peered  anxiously  over  his  hOrse's  ears,  and  stooped  his  face 
to  the  mane  in  his  efforts  to  see  his  way. 

"  What  do  you  make  of  the  road  ?"  he  asked  at  last. 

"  It  looks  as  if  a  good  many  carriage  wheels  had  passed 
over  it  to-day." 

"  What !  Mon  Dieu  !  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  you  can 
see  carriage  wheels  there  ?" 

"  Certainly.     Why  not  ?" 

"  Why,  man,  I  cannot  see  the  road  at  all." 

Amos  Green  laughed  heartily.  "  When  you  have  trav- 
elled in  the  woods  by  night  as  often  as  I  have,"  said  he, 
"when  to  show  a  light  may  mean  to  lose  your  hair,  one 
comes  to  learn  to  use  one's  eyes." 

"Then  you  had  best  ride  on,  and  I  shall  keep  just  be- 
hind you.  So  !  Hola  !  What  is  the  matter  now  ?" 

There  had  been  the  sudden  sharp  snap  of  something 
breaking,  and  the  American  had  reeled  for  an  instant  in 
the  saddle. 

140 


IN   THE  KING'S   SERVICE 


"  It's  one  of  my  stirrup  leathers.     It  has  fallen." 

"  Can  you  find  it  ?" 

"  Yes ;  but  I  can  ride  as  well  without  it.  *  Let  us  push 
on." 

"  Very  good.     I  can  just  see  you  now." 

They  had  galloped  for  about  five  minutes  in  this  fashion, 
de  Catinat's  horse's  head  within  a  few  feet  of  the  other's 
tail,  when  there  was  a  second  snap,  and  the  guardsman 
rolled  out  of  the  saddle  on  to  the  ground.  He  kept  his 
grip  of  the  reins,  however,  and  was  up  in  an  instant  at  his 
horse's  head,  sputtering  out  oaths  as  only  an  angry  French- 
man can. 

"A  thousand  thunders  of  heaven!"  he  cried.  "What 
was  it  that  happened  then  ?" 

"  Your  leather  has  gone  too." 

"Two  stirrup  leathers  in  five  minutes?  It  is  not  pos- 
sible." 

"  It  is  not  possible  that  it  should  be  chance,"  said  the 
American,  gravely,  swinging  himself  off  his  horse.  "  Why, 
what  is  this  ?  My  other  leather  is  cut,  and  hangs  only  by 
a  thread." 

"  And  so  does  mine.  I  can  feel  it  when  I  pass  my  hand 
along.  Have  you  a  tinder-box  ?  Let  us  strike  a  light." 

"  No,  no  ;  the  man  who  is  in  the  dark  is  in  safety.  I  let 
my  enemy  strike  lights.  We  can  see  all  that  is  needful  to 
us." 

"  My  rein  is  cut  also." 

"  And  so  is  mine." 

"  And  the  girth  of  my  saddle." 

"  It  is  a  wonder  that  we  came  so  far  with  whole  bones. 
Now,  who  has  played  us  this  little  trick  ?" 

"  Who  could  it  be  but  that  rogue,  Jaques  ?  He  has  had 
the  horses  in  his  charge.  By  my  faith,  he  shall  know  what 
the  strappado  means  when  I  see  Versailles  again." 

"  But  why  should  he  do  it  ?" 

"Ah,  he  has  been  set  on  to  it.  He  has  been  a  tool  in 
the  hands  of  those  who  wished  to  hinder  our  journey." 

"  Very  like.  But  they  must  have  had  some  reason  be- 
hind. They  knew  well  that  to  cut  our  straps  would  not 

141 


prevent  us  from  reaching  Paris,  since  we  could  ride  bare- 
back, or,  for  that  matter,  could  run  it  if  need  be." 

"  They  hoped  to  break  our  necks." 

"One  neck  they  might  break,  but  scarce  those  of  two, 
since  the  fate  of  the  one  would  warn  the  other." 

"  Well,  then,  what  do  you  think  that  they  meant  ?"  cried 
de  Catinat,  impatiently.  "  For  Heaven's  sake,  let  us  come 
to  some  conclusion,  for  every  minute  is  of  importance." 

But  the  other  was  not  to  be  hurried  out  of  his  cool  me- 
thodical fashion  of  speech  and  of  thought. 

"They  could  not  have  thought  to  stop  us,"  said  he. 
"  What  did  they  mean,  then  ?  They  could  only  have 
meant  to  delay  us.  And  why  should  they  wish  to  delay 
us  ?  What  could  it  matter  to  them  if  we  gave  our  message 
an  hour  or  two  sooner  <5r  an  hour  or  two  later  ?  It  could 
not  matter." 

"  For  Heaven's  sake — "  broke  in  de  Catinat,  impetuously. 

But  Amos  Green  went  on  hammering  the  matter  slowly 
out. 

"  Why  should  they  wish  to  delay  us,  then  ?  There's  only 
one  reason  that  I  can  see.  In  order  to  give  other  folk  time 
to  get  in  front  of  us  and  stop  us.  That  is  it,  Captain.  I'd 
lay  you  a  beaver-skin  to  a  rabbit-pelt  that  I'm  on  the  track. 
There's  been  a  party  of  a  dozen  horsemen  along  this  ground 
since  the  dew  began  to  fall.  If  we  were  delayed,  they  would 
have  time  to  form  their  plans  before  we  came." 

"  By  my  faith,  you  may  be  right,"  said  de  Catinat,  thought- 
fully. "  What  would  you  propose  ?" 

"  That  we  ride  back,  and  go  by  some  less  direct  way." 

"  It  is  impossible.  We  should  have  to  ride  back  to  the 
Meudon  cross-roads,  and  then  it  would  add  ten  miles  to 
our  journey." 

"  It  is  better  to  get  there  an  hour  later  than  not  to  get 
there  at  all." 

"  Pshaw !  we  are  surely  not  to  be  turned  from  our  path 
by  a  mere  guess.  There  is  the  St.  Germain  cross-road  about 
a  mile  below.  When  we  reach  it  we  can  strike  to  the  right 
along  the  south  side  of  the  river,  and  so  change  our  course." 

"  But  we  may  not  reach  it." 
142 


"  If  any  one  bars  our  way  we  shall  know  how  to  treat 
with  them." 

"  You  would  fight,  then  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"  What !  with  a  dozen  of  them  ?" 

"A  hundred,  if  we  are  on  the  King's  errand." 

Amos  Green  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  You  are  surely  not  afraid  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  am,  mighty  afraid.  Fighting's  good  enough  when 
there's  no  help  for  it.  But  I  call  it  a  fool's  plan  to  ride 
straight  into  a  trap  when  you  might  go  round  it." 

"  You  may  do  what  you  like,"  said  de  Catinat,  angrily. 
"  My  father  was  a  gentleman,  the  owner  of  a  thousand  ar- 
pents  of  land,  and  his  son  is  not  going  to  flinch  in  the 
King's  service." 

"  My  father,"  answered  Amos  Green,  "  was  a  merchant, 
the  owner  of  a  thousand  skunk-skins,  and  his  son  knows  a 
fool  when  he  sees  one." 

"  You  are  insolent,  sir,"  cried  the  guardsman.  "We  can 
settle  this  matter  at  some  more  fitting  opportunity.  At 
present  I  continue  my  mission,  and  you  are  very  welcome 
to  turn  back  to  Versailles  if  you  are  so  inclined."  He 
raised  his  hat  with  punctilious  politeness,  sprang  on  to  his 
horse,  and  rode  on  down  the  road. 

Amos  Green  hesitated  a  little,  and  then  mounting,  he 
soon  overtook  his  companion.  The  latter,  however,  was 
still  in  no  very  sweet  temper,  and  rode  with  a  rigid  neck 
without  a  glance  or  a  word  for  his  comrade.  Suddenly  his 
eyes  caught  something  in  the  gloom  which  brought  a  smile 
back  to  his  face.  Away  in  front  of  them,  between  two  dark 
tree  clumps,  lay  a  vast  number  of  shimmering,  glittering 
yellow  points,  as  thick  as  flowers  in  a  garden.  They  were 
the  lights  of  Paris. 

"  See !"  he  cried,  pointing.  "There  is  the  city,  and  close 
here  must  be  the  St.  Germain  road.  We  shall  take  it,  so  as 
to  avoid  any  danger." 

"  Very  good  !  But  I  should  not  ride  too  fast,  when  your 
girth  may  break  at  any  moment." 

"  Nay,  come  on  ;  we  are  close  to  our  journey's  end.    The 


St.  Germain  road  opens  just  round  this  corner,  and  then  we 
shall  see  our  way,  for  the  lights  will  guide  us." 

He  cut  his  horse  with  his  whip,  and  the  two  galloped  to- 
gether round  the  curve.  Next  instant  they  were  both  down 
in  one  wild  heap  of  tossing  heads  and  struggling  hoofs,  de 
Catinat  partly  covered  by  his  horse,  and  his  comrade  hurled 
twenty  paces,  where  he  lay  silent  and  motionless  in  the 
centre  of  the  road. 


CHAPTER   XVI 


MONSIEUR  DE  VIVONNE  had  laid  his  ambuscade  with  dis- 
cretion. With  a  closed  carriage  and  a  band  of  chosen  ruf- 
fians he  had  left  the  palace  a  good  half  hour  before  the 
King's  messengers,  and  by  the  aid  of  his  sister's  gold  he 
had  managed  that  their  journey  should  not  be  a  very  rapid 
one.  On  reaching  the  branch  road  he  had  ordered  the 
coachman  to  drive  some  little  distance  along  it,  and  had 
tethered  all  the  horses  to  a  fence  under  his  charge.  He 
had  then  stationed  one  of  the  band  as  a  sentinel  some  dis- 
tance up  the  main  highway  to  flash  a  light  when  the  two 
couriers  were  approaching.  A  stout  cord  had  been  fast- 
ened eighteen  inches  from  the  ground  to  the  trunk  of  a 
way-side  sapling,  and  on  receiving  the  signal  the  other  end 
was  tied  to  a  gate-post  upon  the  farther  side.  The  two  cav- 
aliers could  not  possibly  see  it,  coming  as  it  did  at  the  very 
curve  of  the  road,  and  as  a  consequence  their  horses  fell 
heavily  to  the  ground,  and  brought  them  down  with  them. 
In  an  instant  the  dozen  ruffians,  who  had  lurked  in  the 
shadow  of  the  trees,  sprang  out  upon  them,  sword  in  hand ; 
but  there  was  no  movement  from  either  of  their  victims. 
De  Catinat  lay  breathing  heavily,  one  leg  under  his  horse's 
neck,  and  the  blood  trickling  in  a  thin  stream  down  his 
pale  face,  and  falling,  drop  by  drop,  on  to  his  silver  shoul- 
der-straps. Amos  Green  was  unwounded,  but  his  injured 
girth  had  given  way  in  the  fall,  and  he  had  been  hurled 
from  his  horse  on  to  the  hard  road  with  a  violence  which 
had  driven  every  particle  of  breath  from  his  body. 

Monsieur  de  Vivonne  lit  a  lantern,  and  flashed  it  upon 
the  faces  of  the  two  unconscious  men.  "  This  is  bad  busi- 

i45 


ness,  Major  Despard,"  said  he  to  the  man  next  him.     "  I 
believe  that  they  are  both  gone." 

"  Tut !  tut !  By  my  soul,  men  did  not  die  like  that  when 
I  was  young !"  answered  the  other,  leaning  forward  his  fierce 
grizzled  face  into  the  light  of  the  lantern.  "  I've  been  cast 
from  my  horse  as  often  as  there  are  tags  to  my  doublet,  but, 
save  for  the  snap  of.  a  bone  or  two,  I  never  had  any  harm 
from  it.  Pass  your  rapier  under  the  third  rib  of  the  horses, 
de  la  Touche ;  they  will  never  be  fit  to  set  hoof  to  ground 
again." 

Two  sobbing  gasps,  and  the  thud  of  their  straining  necks 
falling  back  to  earth  told  that  the  two  steeds  had  come  to 
the  end  of  their  troubles. 

"  Where  is  Latour  ?"  asked  Monsieur  de  Vivonne. 
"Achille  Latour  has  studied  medicine  at  Montpellier. 
Where  is  he?" 

"  Here  I  am,  your  Excellency.  It  is  not  for  me  to  boast, 
but  I  am  as  handy  a  man  with  a  lancet  as  with  a  rapier, 
and  it  was  an  evil  day  for  some  sick  folk  when  I  first 
took  to  buff  and  bandolier.  Which  would  you  have  me 
look  to  ?" 

"This  one  in  the  road." 

The  trooper  bent  over  Amos  Green.  "  He  is  not  long 
for  this  world,"  said  he.  "  I  can  tell  it  by  the  catch  of  his 
breath." 

"  And  what  is  his  injury  ?" 

"A  subluxation  of  the  epigastrium.  Ah,  the  words  of 
learning  will  still  come  to  my  tongue,  but  it  is  hard  to  put 
into  common  terms.  Methinks  that  it  were  well  for  me 
to  pass  my  dagger  through  his  throat,  for  his  end  is  very 
near." 

"  Not  for  your  life  !"  cried  the  leader.  "  If  he  die  without 
wound,  they  cannot  lay  it  to  our  charge.  Turn  now  to  the 
other." 

The  man  bent  over  de  Catinat,  and  placed  his  hand  upon 
his  heart.  As  he  did  so  the  soldier  heaved  a  long  sigh, 
opened  his  eyes,  and  gazed  about  him  with  the  face  of  one 
who  knows  neither  where  he  is  nor  how  he  came  there.  De 
Vivonne,  who  had  drawn  his  hat  down  over  his  eyes,  and 

146 


muffled  the  lower  part  of  his  face  in  his  mantle,  took  out 
his  flask,  and  poured  a  little  of  the  contents  down  the  in- 
jured man's  throat.  In  an  instant  a  dash  of  color  had 
come  back  into  the  guardsman's  bloodless  cheeks,  and  the 
light  of  memory  into  his  eyes.  He  struggled  up  on  to  his 
feet,  and  strove  furiously  to  push  away  those  who  held  him. 
But  his  head  still  swam,  and  he  could  scarce  hold  himself 
erect. 

"  I  must  to  Paris  !"  he  gasped ;  "  I  must  to  Paris  !  It 
is  the  King's  mission.  You  stop  me  at  your  peril  !" 

"  He  has  no  hurt  save  a  scratch,"  said  the  ex -doc- 
tor. 

"Then  hold  him  fast.  And  first  carry  the  dying  man  to 
the  carriage." 

The  lantern  threw  but  a  small  ring  of  yellow  light,  so 
that  when  it  had  been  carried  over  to  de  Catinat,  Amos 
Green  was  left  lying  in  the  shadow.  Now  they  brought  the 
light  back  to  where  the  young  man  lay.  But  there  was  no 
sign  of  him.  He  was  gone. 

For  a  moment  the  little  group  of  ruffians  stood  staring, 
the  light  of  their  lantern  streaming  up  upon  their  plumed 
hats,  their  fierce  eyes,  and  savage  faces.  Then  a  burst  of 
oaths  broke  from  them,  and  de  Vivonne  caught  the  false 
doctor  by  the  throat,  and  hurling  him  down,  would  have 
choked  him  upon  the  spot,  had  the  others  not  dragged 
them  apart. 

"  You  lying  dog  !"  he  cried.  "  Is  this  your  skill  ?  The 
man  has  fled,  and  we  are  ruined !" 

"  He  has  done  it  in  his  death-struggle,"  gasped  the  other, 
hoarsely,  sitting  up  and  rubbing  his  throat.  "  I  tell  you 
that  he  was  in  extremis.  He  cannot  be  far  off." 

"That  is  true.  He  cannot  be  far  off,"  cried  da  Vi- 
vonne. "  He  has  neither  horse  nor  arms.  You,  Despard 
and  Raymond  de  Carnac,  guard  the  other,  that  he  play  us 
no  trick.  Do  you,  Latour,  and  you,  Turberville,  ride  down 
the  road,  and  wait  by  the  south  gate.  If  he  enter  Paris 
at  all,  he  must  come  in  that  way.  If  you  get  nim,  tie 
him  before  you  on  your  horse,  and  bring  him  to  the  ren- 
dezvous. In  any  case,  it  matters  little,  for  he  is  a 

147 


stranger,  this  fellow,  and  only  here  by  chance.  Now  lead 
the  other  to  the  carriage,  and  we  shall  get  away  before  an 
alarm  is  given." 

The  two  horsemen  rode  off  in  pursuit  of  the  fugitive, 
and  de  Catinat,  still  struggling  desperately  to  escape,  was 
dragged  down  the  St.  Germain  road  and  thrust  into  the 
carriage,  which  had  waited  at  some  distance  while  these 
incidents  were  being  enacted.  Three  of  the  horsemen  rode 
ahead,  the  coachman  was  curtly  ordered  to  follow  them,  and 
de  Vivonne,  having  despatched  one  of  the  band  with  a  note 
to  his  sister,  followed  after  the  coach  with  the  remainder 
•of  his  desperadoes. 

The  unfortunate  guardsman  had  now  entirely  recovered 
his  senses,  and  found  himself  with  a  strap  round  his  ankles, 
and  another  round  his  wrists,  a  captive  inside  a  moving 
prison  which  lumbered  heavily  along  the  country  road.  He 
had  been  stunned  by  the  shock  of  his  fall,  and  his  leg  was 
badly  bruised  by  the  weight  of  his  horse ;  but  the  cut  on 
his  forehead  was  a  mere  trifle,  and  the  bleeding  had  already 
ceased.  His  mind,  however,  pained  him  more  than  his 
body.  He  sank  his  head  into  his  pinioned  hands,  and 
stamped  madly  with  his  feet,  rocking  himself  to  and  fro  in 
his  despair.  What  a  fool,  a  treble  fool,  he  had  been  !  He, 
an  old  soldier,  who  had  seen  something  of  war,  to  walk  with 
open  eyes  into  such  a  trap !  The  King  had  chosen  him,  of 
all  men,  as  a  trusty  messenger,  and  yet  he  had  failed  him — 
and  failed  him  so  ignominiously,  without  shot  fired  or  sword 
drawn.  He  was  warned,  too,  warned  by  a  young  man  who 
knew  nothing  of  court  intrigue,  and  who  was  guided  only 
by  the  wits  which  nature  had  given  him.  De  Catinat  dashed 
himself  down  upon  the  leather  cushion  in  the  agony  of  his 
thoughts. 

But  then  came  a  return  of  that  common-sense  which  lies 
so  very  closely  beneath  the  impetuosity  of  the  Celt.  The 
matter  was  done  now,  and  he  must  see  if  it  could  not  be 
mended.  Amos  Green  had  escaped.  That  was  one  grand 
point  in  his  favor.  And  Amos  Green  had  heard  the  King's 
message,  and  realized  its  importance.  It  was  true  that  he 
knew  nothing  of  Paris,  but  surely  a  man  who  could  pick  his 

148 


way  at  night  through  the  forests  of  Maine  would  not  be 
balked  in  finding  so  well  known  a  house  as  -that  of  the 
Archbishop  of  Paris.  But  then  there  came  a  sudden  thought 
which  turned  de  Catinat's  heart  to  lead.  The  city  gates 
were  locked  at  eight  o'clock  in  the  evening.  It  was  now 
nearly  nine.  It  would  have  been  easy  for  him,  whose  uni- 
form was  a  voucher  for  his  message,  to  gain  his  way  through. 
But  how  could  Amos  Green,  a  foreigner  and  a  civilian,  hope 
to  pass  ?  It  was  impossible,  clearly  impossible.  And  yet, 
somehow,  in  spite  of  the  impossibility,  he  still  clung  to  a 
vague  hope  that  a  man  so  full  of  energy  and  resource  might 
find  some  way  out  of  the  difficulty. 

And  then  the  thought  of  escape  occurred  to  his  mind. 
Might  he  not  even  now  be  in  time,  perhaps,  to  carry  his 
own  message  ?  Who  were  these  men  who  had  seized  him  ? 
They  had  said  nothing  to  give  him  a  hint  as  to  whose  tools 
they  were.  Monsieur  and  the  Dauphin  occurred  to  his  mind. 
Probably  one  or  the  other.  He  had  only  recognized  one 
of  them,  old  Major  Despard,  a  man  who  frequented  the  low 
wine-shops  of  Versailles,  and  whose  sword  was  ever  at  the 
disposal  of  the  longest  purse.  And  where  were  these  people 
taking  him  to  ?  It  might  be  to  his  death.  But  if  they 
wished  to  do  away  with  him,  why  should  they  have  brought 
him  back  to  consciousness  ?  and  why  this  carriage  and 
drive  ?  Full  of  curiosity,  he  peered  out  of  the  windows. 

A  horseman  was  riding  close  up  on  either  side ;  but  there 
was  glass  in  front  of  the  carriage,  and  through  this  he  could 
gain  some  idea  as  to  his  whereabouts.  The  clouds  had 
cleared  now,  and  the  moon  was  shining  brightly,  bathing  the 
whole  wide  landscape  in  its  shimmering  light.  To  the  right 
lay  the  open  country,  broad  plains  with  clumps  of  wood- 
land, and  the  towers  of  castles  pricking  out  from  above  the 
groves.  A  heavy  bell  was  ringing  in  some  monastery,  and 
its  dull  booming  came  and  went  with  the  breeze.  On  the 
left,  but  far  away,  lay  the  glimmer  of  Paris.  They  were 
leaving  it  rapidly  behind.  Whatever  his  destination,  it  was 
neither  the  capital  nor  Versailles.  Then  he  began  to  count 
the  chances  of  escape.  His  sword  had  been  removed,  and 
his  pistols  were  still  in  the  holsters  beside  his  unfortunate 
L  149 


horse.  He  was  unarmed,  then,  even  if  he  could  free  him- 
self, and  his  captors  were  at  least  a  dozen  in  number. 
There  were  three  on  ahead,  riding  abreast  along  the  white 
mooonlit  road.  Then  there  was  one  on  each  side,  and  he 
should  judge  by  the  clatter  of  hoofs  that  there  could  not  be 
fewer  than  half  a  dozen  behind.  That  would  make  exactly 
twelve,  including  the  coachman,  too -many,  surely,  for  an 
unarmed  man  to  hope  to  baffle.  At  the  thought  of  the 
coachman  he  had  glanced  through  the  glass  front  at  the 
broad  back  of  the  man,  and  he  had  suddenly,  in  the  glim- 
mer of  the  carriage  lamp,  observed  something  which  struck 
him  with  horror. 

'  The  man  was  evidently  desperately  wounded.  It  was 
strange  indeed  that  he  could  still  sit  there  and  flick  his 
whip  with  so  terrible  an  injury.  In  the  back  of  his  great 
red  coat,  just  under  the  left  shoulder-blade,  was  a  gash  in 
the  cloth,  where  some  weapon  had  passed,  and  all  round 
was  a  wide  patch  of  dark  scarlet  which  told  its  own  tale. 
Nor  was  this  all.  As  he  raised  his  whip,  the  moonlight 
shone  upon  his  hand,  and  de  Catinat  saw  with  a  shudder 
that  it  also  was  splashed  and  clogged  with  blood.  The 
guardsman  craned  his  neck  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  man's 
face  ;  but  his  broad-brimmed  hat  was  drawn  low,  and  the 
high  collar  of  his  driving-coat  was  raised,  so  that  his  feat- 
ures were  in  the  shadow.  This  silent  man  in  front  of  him, 
with  the  horrible  marks  upon  his  person,  sent  a  chill  to  de 
Catinat's  valiant  heart,  and  he  muttered  over  one  of  Marot's 
Huguenot  psalms ;  for  who  but  the  foul  fiend  himself  would 
drive  a  coach  with  those  crimsoned  hands  and  with  a  sword 
driven  through  his  body  ? 

•  And  now  they  had  come  to  a  spot  where  the  main  road 
ran  onward,  but  a  smaller  side  track  wound  away  down 
the  steep  slope  of  a  hill,  and  so  in  the  direction  of  the 
Seine.  The  advance-guard  had  kept  to  the  main  road,  and 
the  two  horsemen  on  either  side  were  trotting  in  the  same 
direction,  when,  to  de  Catinat's  amazement,  the  carriage 
suddenly  swerved  to  one  side,  and  in  an  instant  plunged 
down  the  steep  incline,  the  two  stout  horses  galloping  at  their 
topmost  speed,  the  coachman  standing  up  and  lashing  furi- 

150 


• 


AT  THE   HORSE,  DESPARD,  AT  THE   HORSE  !' 


ously  at  them,  and  the  clumsy  old  vehicle  bounding  along  in 
a  way  which  threw  him  backward  and  forward  from  one  seat 
to  the  other.  Behind  him  he  could  hear  a  shout  of  conster- 
nation from  the  escort,  and  then  the  rush  of  galloping  hoofs. 
Away  they  flew,  the  road-side  poplars  dancing  past  at  either 
window,  the  horses  thundering  along  with  their  stomachs 
to  the  earth,  and  that  demon  driver  still  waving  those  horri- 
ble red  hands  in  the  moonlight  and  screaming  out  to  the 
maddened  steeds.  Sometimes  the  carriage  jolted  one  way, 
sometimes  another,  swaying  furiously,  and  running  on  two 
side  wheels  as  though  it  must  every  instant  go  over.  And 
yet,  fast  as  they  went,  their  pursuers  went  faster  still.  The 
rattle  of  their  hoofs  was  at  their  very  backs,  and  suddenly 
at  one  of  the  windows  there  came  into  view  the  red  dis- 
tended nostrils  of  a  horse.  Slowly  it  drew  forward,  the 
muzzle,  the  eye,  the  ears,  the  mane,  coming  into  sight  as 
the  rider  still  gained  upon  them,  and  then  above  them  the 
fierce  face  of  Despard  and  the  gleam  of  a  brass  pistol 
barrel. 

"At  the  horse,  Despard,  at  the  horse !"  cried  an  authori- 
tative voice  from  behind. 

The  pistol  flashed,  and  the  coach  lurched  over  as  one 
of  the  horses  gave  a  convulsive  spring.  But  the  driver 
still  shrieked  and  lashed  with  his  whip,  while  the  carriage 
bounded  onward. 

But  now  the 'road  turned  a  sudden  curve,  and  there, 
right  in  front  of  them,  not  a  hundred  paces  away,  was  the 
Seine,  running  cold  and  still  in  the  moonshine.  The  bank 
on  either  side  of  the  highway  ran  straight  down  without  any 
break  to  the  water's  edge.  There  was  no  sign  of  a  bridge, 
and  a  black  shadow  in  the  centre  of  the  stream  showed 
where  the  ferry-boat  was  returning  after  conveying  some 
belated  travellers  across.  The  driver  never  hesitated,  but 
gathering  up  the  reins,  he  urged  the  frightened  creatures 
into  the  river.  They  hesitated,  however,  when  they  first 
felt  the  cold  water  about  their  hocks,  and  even  as  they  did 
so  one  of  them,  with  a  low  moan,  fell  over  upon  her  side. 
Despard's  bullet  had  found  its  mark.  Like  a  flash  the 
coachman  hurled  himself  from  the  box  and  plunged  into 


the  stream  j  but  the  pursuing  horsemen  were  all  round  him 
before  this,  and  half  a  dozen  hands  had  seized  him  ere  he 
could  reach  deep  water,  and  had  dragged  him  to  the  bank. 
His  broad  hat  had  been  struck  off  in  the  struggle,  and  de 
Catinat  saw  his  face  in  the  moonshine.  Great  heavens ! 
It  was  Amos  Green. 


CHAPTER   XVII 
THE   DUNGEON   OF   PORTILLAC 

THE  desperadoes  were  as  much  astonished  as  was  de 
Catinat  when  they  found  that  they  had  recaptured  in  this 
extraordinary  manner  the  messenger  whom  they  had  given 
up  for  lost.  A  volley  of  oaths  and  exclamations  broke 
from  them  as,  on  tearing  off  the  huge  red  coat  of  the 
coachman,  they  disclosed  the  sombre  dress  of  the  young 
American. 

"  A  thousand  thunders  !"  cried  one.  "  And  this  is  the 
man  whom  that  devil's  brat  Latour  would  make  out  to  be 
dead !" 

"  And  how  came  he  here  ?" 

"  And  where  is  Etienne  Arnaud  ?" 

"He  has  stabbed  Etienne.  See  the  great  cut  in  the 
coat !" 

"Ay;  and  see  the  color  of  his  hand!  He  has  stabbed 
him,  and  taken  his  coat  and  hat." 

"What!  while  we  were  all  within  stone1  s-cast I" 

"  Ay ;  there  is  no  other  way  out  of  it." 

"  By  my  soul !"  cried  old  Despard,  "  I  had  never  much 
love  for  old  Etienne,  but  I  have  emptied  a  cup  of  wine  with 
him  before  now,  and  I  shall  see  that  he  has  justice.  Let 
us  cast  these  reins  round  the  fellow's  neck  and  hang  him 
upon  this  tree." 

Several  pairs  of  hands  were  already  unbuckling  the  har- 
ness of  the  dead  horse,  when  de  Vivonne  pushed  his  way 
into  the  little  group,  and  with  a  few  curt  words  checked 
their  intended  violence. 

"  It  is  as  much  as  your  lives  are  worth  to  touch  him," 
said  he. 

i53 


"  But  he  has  slain  Etienne  Arnaud." 

"  That  score  may  be  settled  afterwards.  To-night  he  is 
the  King's  messenger.  Is  the  other  all  safe  ?" 

"Yes,  he  is  here." 

"  Tie  this  man,  and  put  him  in  beside  him.  Unbuckle 
the  traces  of  the  dead  horse.  So  !  Now,  de  Carnac,  put 
your  own  into  the  harness.  You  can  mount  the  box  and 
drive,  for  we  have  not  very  far  to  go." 

The  changes  were  rapidly  made;  Amos  Green  was 
thrust  in  beside  de  Catinat,  and  the  carriage  was  soon  toiling 
up  the  steep  incline  which  it  had  come  down  so  precipi- 
tately. The  American  had  said  not  a  word  since  his  capt- 
ure, and  had  remained  absolutely  stolid,  with  his  hands 
crossed  over  his  chest  while  his  fate  was  under  discussion. 
Now  that  he  was  alone  once  more  with  his  comrade,  how- 
ever, he  frowned  and  muttered  like  a  man  who  feels  that 
fortune  has  used  him  badly. 

"Those  infernal  horses!"  he  grumbled.  "Why,  an 
American  horse  would  have  taken  to  the  water  like  a  duck. 
Many  a  time  have  I  .swum  my  old  stallion  Sagamore  across 
the  Hudson.  Once  over  the  river,  we  should  have  had  a 
clear  lead  to  Paris."- 

"  My  dear  friend,"  cried  de  Catinat,  laying  his  manacled 
hands  upon  those  of  his  comrade,  "  can  you  forgive  me  for 
speaking  as  I  did  upon  the  way  from  Versailles  ?" 

"Tut,  man  !  I  never  gave  it  a  thought." 

"You  were  right  a  thousand  times,  and  I  was,  as  you 
said,  a  fool — a  blind,  obstinate  fool.  How  nobly  you  have 
stood  by  me !  But  how  came  you  there  ?  Never  in  my 
life  have  I  been  so  astonished  as  when  I  saw  your  face." 

Amos  Green  chuckled  to  himself.  "I  thought  that 
maybe  it  would  be  a  surprise  to  you  if  you  knew  who 
was  driving  you,"  said  he.  "  When  I  was  thrown  from  my 
horse  I  lay  quiet,  partly  because  I  wanted  to  get  a  grip  of 
my  breath,  and  partly  because  it  seemed  to  me  to  be  more 
healthy  to  lie  than  to  stand  with  all  those  swords  clinking 
in  my  ears.  Then  they  all  got  round  -you,  and  I  rolled 
into  the  ditch,  crept  along  it,  got  on  the  cross-road  in  the 
shadow  of  the  trees,  and  was  beside  the  carriage  before 

154 


ever  they  knew  that  I  was  gone.  I  saw  in  a  flash  that 
there  was  only  one  way  by  which  I  could  be  of  use  to  you. 
The  coachman  was  leaning  round  with  his  he*ad  turned  to 
see  what  was  going  on  behind  him.  I  out  with  my  knife, 
sprang  up  on  the  front  wheel,  and  stopped  his  tongue  for- 
ever." 

"  What !  without  a  sound!" 

"  I  have  not  lived  among  the  Indians  for  nothing." 

"And  then?" 

"I  pulled  him  down  into  the  ditch,  and  I  got  into  his 
coat  and  his  hat.  I  did  not  scalp  him." 

"  Scalp  him  !  Great  heavens  !  Such  things  are  only 
done  among  savages." 

"  Ah !  I  thought  that  maybe  it  was  not  the  custom  of 
the  country.  I  am  glad  now  that  I  did  not  do  it.  I  had 
hardly  got  the  reins  before  they  were  all  back  and  bun- 
dled you  into  the  coach.  I  was  not  afraid  of  their  seeing 
me,  but  I  was  scared  lest  I  should  not  know  which  road  to 
take,  and  so  set  them  on  the  trail.  But  they  made  it  easy  to 
me  by  sending  some  of  their  riders  in  front,  so  I  did  well 
until  I  saw  that  by-track  and  made  a  run  for  it.  We'd  have 
got  away,  too,  if  that  rogue  hadn't  shot  the  horse,  and  if  the 
beasts  had  faced  the  water." 

The  guardsman  again  pressed  his  comrade's  hands. 
"  You  have  been  as  true  to  me  as  hilt  to  blade,"  said  he. 
"  It  was  a  bold  thought  and  a  bold  deed." 

"  And  what  now  ?"  asked  the  American. 

"  I  do  not  know  who  these  men  are,  and  I  do  not  know 
whither  they  are  taking  us." 

u  To  their  villages,  likely,  to  burn  us." 

De  Catinat  laughed  in  spite  of  his  anxiety.  "You  will 
have  it  that  we  are  back  in  America  again,"  said  he. 
"They  don't  do  things  in  that  way  in  France." 

"  They  seem  free  enough  with  hanging  in  France.  I 
tell  you,  I  felt  like  a  smoked-out  'coon  when  that  trace  was 
round  my  neck." 

"  I  fancy  that  they  are  taking  us  to  some  place  where 
they  can  shut  us  up  until  this  business  blows  over." 

"  Well,  they'll  need  to  be  smart  about  it." 


"Why?" 

"  Else  maybe  they  won't  find  us  when  they  want  us." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?" 

For  answer,  the  American,  with  a  twist  and  a  wriggle, 
drew  his  two  hands  apart,  and  held  them  in  front  of  his 
comrade's  face. 

"  Bless  you,  it  is  the  first  thing  they  teach  the  pappooses 
in  an  Indian  wigwam.  I've  got  out  of  a  Huron's  thongs  of 
rawhide  before  now,  and  it  ain't  very  likely  that  a  stiff 
stirrup  leather  will  hold  me.  Put  your  hands  out."  With 
a  few  dexterous  twists  he  loosened  de  Catmat's  bonds, 
until  he  also  was  able  to  slip  his  hands  free.  "Now  for 
your  feet,  if  you'll  put  them  up.  They'll  find  that  we  are 
easier  to  catch  than  to  hold." 

But  at  that  moment  the  carriage  began  to  slow  down, 
and  the  clank  of  the  hoofs  of  the  riders  in  front  of  them 
died  suddenly  away.  Peeping  through  the  windows,  the 
prisoners  saw  a  huge  dark  building  stretching  in  front  of 
them,  so  high  and  so  broad  that  the  night  shrouded  it  in 
upon  every  side.  A  great  archway  hung  above  them,  and 
the  lamps  shone  on  the  rude  wooden  gate,  studded  with 
ponderous  clamps  and  nails.  In  the  upper  part  of  the 
door  was  a  small  square  iron  grating,  and  through  this  they 
could  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  gleam  of  a  lantern  and  of  a 
bearded  face  which  looked  out  at  them.  De  Vivonne, 
standing  in  his  stirrups,  craned  his  head  up  towards  the 
grating,  so  that  the  two  men  most  interested  could  hear 
little  of  the  conversation  which  followed.  They  saw  only 
that  the  horseman  held  a  gold  ring  up  in  the  air,  and  that 
the  face  above,  which  had  begun  by  shaking  and  frowning, 
was  now  nodding  and  smiling.  An 'instant  later  the  head 
disappeared,  the  door  swung  open  upon  screaming  hinges, 
and  the  carriage  drove  on  into  the  court -yard  beyond, 
leaving  the  escort,  with  the  exception  of  de  Vivonne,  out- 
side. As  the  horses  pulled  up,  a  knot  of  rough  fellows 
clustered  round,  and  the  two  prisoners  were  dragged  rough- 
ly out.  In  the  light  of  the  torches  which  flared  around 
them  they  could  see  that  they  were  hemmed  in  by  high 
turreted  walls  upon  every  side.  A  bulky  man  with  a 

156 


bearded  face,  the  same  whom  they  had  seen  at  the  grating, 
was  standing  in  the  centre  of  the  group  of  armed  men  issu- 
ing his  orders. 

"  To  the  upper  dungeon,  Simon  !"  he  cried.  "  And  see 
that  they  have  two  bundles  of  straw  and  a  loaf  of  bread 
until  we  learn  our  master's  will." 

"  I  know  not  who  your  master  may  be,"  said  de  Catinat, 
"  but  I  would  ask  you  by  what  warrant  he  dares  to  stop 
two  messengers  of  the  King  while  travelling  in  his  serv- 
ice ?" 

"By  St.  Denis,  if  my  master  play  the  King  a  trick,  it 
will  be  but  tie  and  tie,"  the  stout  man  answered,  with  a 
grin.  "  But  no  more  talk !  Away  with  them,  Simon,  and 
you  answer  to  me  for  their  safe-keeping." 

It  was  in  vain  that  de  Catinat  raved  and  threatened,  in- 
voking the  most  terrible  menaces  upon  all  who  were  con- 
cerned in  detaining  him.  Two  stout  knaves  thrusting  him 
from  behind  and  one  dragging  in  front  forced  him  through 
a  narrow  gate  and  along  a  stone  -  flagged  passage,  a  small 
man  in  black  buckram  with  a  bunch  of  keys  in  one  hand 
and  a  swinging  lantern  in  the  other  leading  the  way. 
Their  ankles  had  been  so  tied  that  they  could  but  take 
steps  of  a  foot  in  length.  Shuffling  along,  they  made  their 
way  down  three  successive  corridors  and  through  three 
doors,  each  of  which  was  locked  and  barred  behind  them. 
Then  they  ascended  a  winding  stone  stair,  hollowed  out  in 
the  centre  by  the  feet  of  generations  of  prisoners  and  of 
jailers,  and  finally  they  were  thrust  into  a  small  square  dun- 
geon, and  two  trusses  of  straw  were  thrown  in  after  them. 
An  instant  later  a  heavy  key  turned  in  the  lock,  and  they 
were  left  to  their  own  meditations. 

Very  grim  and  dark  those  meditations  were  in  the  case 
of  de  Catinat.  A  stroke  of  good  luck  had  made  him  at 
court,  and  now  this  other  of  ill  fortune  had  destroyed  him. 
It  would  be  in  vain  that  he  should  plead  his  own  power- 
lessness.  He  knew  his  royal  master  well.  He  was  a  man 
who  was  munificent  when  his  orders  were  obeyed,  and  in- 
exorable when  they  miscarried.  No  excuse  availed  with 
him.  An  unlucky  man  was  as  abhorrent  to  him  as  a  negli- 


gent  one.  In  this  great  crisis  the  King  had  trusted  him 
with  an  all-important  message,  and  that  message  had  not 
been  delivered.  What  could  save  him  now  from  disgrace 
and  from  ruin  ?  He  cared  nothing  for  the  dim  dungeon  in 
which  he  found  himself,  nor  for  the  uncertain  fate  which 
hung  over  his  head,  but  his  heart  turned  to  lead  when  he 
thought  of  his  blasted  career,  and  of  the  triumph  of  those 
whose  jealousy  had  been  aroused  by  his  rapid  promotion. 
There* were  his  people  in  Paris,  too— his  sweet  Adele,  his 
old  uncle,  who  had  been  as  good  as  a  father  to  him.  What 
protector  would  they  have  in  their  troubles  now  that  he  had 
lost  the  power  that  might  have  shielded  them  ?  How  long 
would  it  be  before  they  were  exposed  once  more  to  the  bru- 
talities of  Dalbert  and  his  dragoons?  He  clinched  his 
teeth  at  the  thought,  and  threw  himself  clown  with  a  groan 
upon  the  litter  of  straw  dimly  visible  in  the  faint  light  which 
streamed  through  the  single  window. 

But  his  energetic  comrade  had  yielded  to  no  feeling  of 
despondency.  The  instant  that  the  clang  of  the  prison 
door  had  assured  him  that  he  was  safe  from  interruption 
he  had  slipped  off  the  bonds  which  held  him  and  had  felt 
all  round  the  walls  and  flooring  to  see  what  manner  of 
place  this  might  be.  His  search  had  ended  in  the  discov- 
ery of  a  small  fireplace  at  one  corner,  and  of  two  great 
clumsy  billets  of  wood,  which  seemed  to  have  been  left 
there  to  serve  as  pillows  for  the  prisoners.  Having  satis- 
fied himself  that  the  chimney  was  so  small  that  it  was  ut- 
terly impossible  to  pass  even  his  head  up  it,  he  drew  the 
two  blocks  of  wood  over  to  the  window,  and  was  able,  by 
placing  one  above  the  other  and  standing  on  tiptoe  on  the 
highest,  to  reach  the  bars  which  guarded  it.  Drawing  him- 
self up,  and  fixing  one  toe  in  an  inequality  of  the  wall,  he 
managed  to  look  out  on  to  the  court-yard  which  they  had 
just  quitted.  The  carriage  and  de  Vivonne  were  passing 
out  through  the  gate  as  he  looked,  and  he  heard  a  moment 
later  the  slam  of  the  heavy  door  and  the  clatter  of  hoofs 
from  the  troop  of  horsemen  outside.  The  seneschal  and 
his  retainers  had  disappeared  ;  the  torches,  too,  were  gone, 
and,  save  for  the  measured  tread  of  a  pair  of  sentinels  in 

158 


the  yard  twenty  feet  beneath  him,  all  was  silent  throughout 
the  great  castle. 

And  a  very  great  castle  it  was.  Even  as  he  hung  there 
with  straining  hands  his  eyes  were  running  in  admiration 
and  amazement  over  the  huge  wall  in  front  of  him,  with  its 
fringe  of  turrets  and  pinnacles  and  battlements  all  lying  so 
still  and  cold  in  the  moonlight.  Strange  thoughts  will  slip 
into  a  man's  head  at  the  most  unlikely  moments.  He  remem- 
bered suddenly  a  bright  summer  day  over  the  water  when 
first  he  had  come  down  from  Albany,  and  how  his  father 
had  met  him  on  the  wharf  by  the  Hudson,  and  had  taken 
him  through  the  water-gate  to  see  Peter  Stuyvesant's  house, 
as  a  sign  of  how  great  this  city  was  which  had  passed  from 
the  Dutch  to  the  English.  Why,  Peter  Stuyvesant's  house 
and  Peter  Stuyvesant's  Bowery  villa  put  together  would 
not  make  one  wing  of  this  huge  pile,  which  was  itself  a 
mere  dog -kennel  beside  the  mighty  palace  at  Versailles. 
He  would  that  his  father  were  here  now;  and  then,  on  sec- 
ond thoughts,  he  would  not,  for  it  came  back  to  him  that 
he  was  a  prisoner  in  a  far  land,  and  that  his  sight-seeing 
was  being  done  through  the  bars  of  a  dungeon  window. 

The  window  was  large  enough  to  pass  his  body  through 
if  it  were  not  for  those  bars.  He  shook  them  and  hung 
his  weight  upon  them,  but  they  were  as  thick  as  his  thumb 
and  firmly  welded.  Then,  getting  some  strong  hold  for  his 
other  foot,  he  supported  himself  by  one  hand  while  he  picked 
with  his  knife  at  the  setting  of  the  iron.  It  was  cement, 
as  smooth  as  glass  and  as  hard  as  marble.  His  knife 
turned  when  he  tried  to  loosen  it.  But  there  was  still  the 
stone.  It  was  sandstone,  not  so  very  hard.  If  he  could 
cut  grooves  in  it,  he  might  be  able  to  draw  out  bars,  ce- 
ment, and  all.  He  sprang  down  to  the  floor  again,  and 
was  thinking  how  he  should  best  set  to  work,  when  a 
groan  drew  his  attention  to  his  companion. 

"  You  seem  sick,  friend,"  said  he. 

"  Sick  in  mind,"  moaned  the  other.  "  Oh,  the  cursed  fool 
that  I  have  been  !  It  maddens  me  !" 

"  Something  on  your  mind  ?"  said  Amos  Green,  sitting 
down  upon  his  billets  of  wood.  "  What  was  it,  then  ?" 


The  guardsman  here  made  a  movement  of  impatience. 
"  What  was  it  ?  How  can  you  ask  me,  when  you  know  as 
well  as  I  do  the  wretched  failure  of  my  mission.  It  was 
the  King's  wish  that  the  Archbishop  should  marry  them. 
The  King's  wish  is  the  law.  It  must  be  the  Archbishop 
or  none.  He  should  have  been  at  the  palace  by  now.  Ah, 
my  God!  I  can  see  the  King's  cabinet,  I  can  see  him  wait- 
ing, I  can  see  madame  waiting,  I  can  hear  them  speak  of  the 
unhappy  de  Catinat — "  He  buried  his  face  in  his  hands 
once  more. 

"  I  see  all  that,"  said  the  American,  stolidly,  "  and  I  see 
something  more." 

"  What,  then  ?" 

"  I  see  the  Archbishop  tying  them  up  together." 

"  The  Archbishop  !     You  are  raving." 

"  Maybe.     But  I  see  him." 

"  He  could  not  be  at  the  palace." 

"  On  the  contrary,  he  reached  the  palace  about  half  an 
hour  ago." 

De  Catinat  sprang  to  t  his  feet.  "At  the  palace!"  he 
screamed.  "  Then  who  gave  him  the  message  ?" 

"  I  did,"  said  Amos  Green. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

• 
A   NIGHT   OF   SURPRISES 

IF  the  American  had  expected  to  surprise  or  delight  his 
companion  by  this  curt  announcement  he  was  wofully  dis- 
appointed, for  de  Catinat  approached  him  with  a  face  which 
was  full  of  sympathy  and  trouble,  and  laid  his  hand  caress- 
ingly upon  his  shoulder. 

"  My  dear  friend,"  said  he,  "  I  have  been  selfish  and 
thoughtless.  I  have  made  too  much  of  my  own  little  trou- 
bles and  too  little  of  what  you  have  gone  through  for  me. 
That  fall  from  your  horse  has  shaken  you  more  than  you 
think.  Lie  down  upon  this  straw,  and  see  if  a  little  sleep 
may  not — " 

"  I  tell  you  that  the  Bishop  is  there !"  cried  Amos  Green, 
impatiently. 

"  Quite  so.  There  is  water  in  this  jug,  and  if  I  dip  my 
scarf  into  it  and  tie  it  round  your  brow — " 

"  Man  alive  !     Don't  you  hear  me  !     The  Bishop  is  there." 

"  He  is,  he  is,"  said  de  Catinat,  soothingly.  "  He  is  most 
certainly  there.  I  trust  that  you  have  no  pain  ?" 

The  American  raved  in  the  air  with  his  knotted  fists. 
"  You  think  that  I'm  crazed,"  he  cried,  "  and,  by  the  eternal, 
you  are  enough  to  make  me  so !  When  I  say  that  I  sent 
the  Bishop,  I  mean  that  I  saw  to  the  job.  You  remember 
when  I  stepped  back  to  your  friend  the  Major  ?" 

It  was  the  soldier's  turn  to  grow  excited  now.  "  Well  ?" 
he  cried,  gripping  the  other's  arm. 

"  Well,  when  we  send  a  scout  into  the  woods,  if  the  mat- 
ter is  worth  it,  we  send  a  second  one  at  another  hour,  and 
so  one  or  other  comes  back  with  his  hair  on.  That's  the 
Iroquois  fashion,  and  a  good  fashion  too." 

161 


"  My  God  !     I  believe  that  you  have  saved  me  !" 
"  You  needn't  grip  onto  my  arm  like  a  fish-eagle  on  a 
trout !    I  went  back  to  the  Major,  then,  and  I  asked  him  when 
he  was  in  Paris  to  pass  by  the  Archbishop's  door." 
"  Well  ?     Well  ?" 

"  I  showed  him  this  lump  of  chalk.  *  If  we've  been  there,' 
said  I,  '  you'll  see  a  great  cross  on  the  left  side  of  the  door- 
post. If  there's  no  cross,  then  pull  the  latch  and  ask  the 
Bishop  if  he'll  come  up  to  the  palace  as  quick  as  his  horses 
can  bring  him.'  The  Major  started  an  hour  after  us ;  he 
would  be  in  Paris  by  half  past  ten  ;  the  Bishop  would  be  in 
his  carriage  by  eleven,  and  he  would  reach  Versailles  half 
an  hour  ago — that  is  to  s"ay,  about  half  past  twelve.  By  the 
Lord,  I  think  I've  driven  him  off  his  head !" 

It  was  no  wonder  that  the  young  woodsman  was  alarmed 
at  the  effect  of  his  own  announcement.  His  slow  and  steady 
nature  was  incapable  of  the  quick,  violent  variations  of  the 
fiery  Frenchman.  De  Catinat,  who  had  thrown  off  his  bonds 
before  he  had  lain  down,  spun  round  the  cell  now,  waving 
his  arms  and  his  legs,  with  his  shadow  capering  up  the  wall 
behind  him,  all  distorted  in  the  moonlight.  Finally  he 
threw  himself  into  his  comrade's  arms  with  a  torrent  of 
thanks  and  ejaculations  and  praises  and  promises,  patting 
him  with  his  hands  and  hugging  him  Jo  his  breast.  . 

"  Oh,  if  I  could  but  do  something  for  you  !"  he  exclaimed. 
"  If  I  could  do  something  for  you  !" 

"  You  can,  then.  Lie  down  on  that  straw  and  go  to 
sleep." 

"  And  to  think  that  I  sneered  at  you  !  I  !  Oh,  you  have 
had  your  revenge !" 

"  For  the  Lord's  sake,  lie  down  and  go  to  sleep !"  By 
persuasions  and  a  little  pushing  he  got  his  delighted  com- 
panion on  to  his  couch  again,  and  heaped  the  straw  over 
him  to  serve  as  a  blanket.  De  Catinat  was  wearied  out  by 
the  excitements  of  the  day,  and  this  last  great  reaction 
seemed  to  have  absorbed  all  his  remaining  strength.  His 
lids  drooped  heavily  over  his  eyes,  his  head  sank 'deeper 
into  the  soft  straw,  and  his  last  remembrance  was  that 
the  tireless  American  was  seated  cross-legged  in  the  moon- 

162 


light,  working  furiously  with  his  long  knife  upon  one  of  the 
billets  of  wood. 

So  weary  was  the  young  guardsman  that  it  was  long  past 
noon,  and  the  sun  was  shining  out  of  a  cloudless  blue  sky, 
before  he  awoke.  For  a  moment,  enveloped  as  he  was  in 
straw,  and  with  the  rude  arch  of  the  dungeon  meeting  in 
four  rough-hewn  groinings  above  his  head,  he  stared  about 
him  in  bewilderment.  Then  in  an  instant  the  doings  of  the 
day  before,  his  mission,  the  ambuscade,  his  imprisonment, 
all  flashed  back  to  him,  and  he  sprang  to  his  feet.  His  com- 
rade, who  had  been  dozing  in  the  corner,  jumped  up  also  an 
the  first  movement,  with  his  hand  on  his  knife,  and  a  sinis- 
ter glance  directed  towards  the  door. 

"  Oh,  it's  you,  is  it  ?"  said  he.  "  I  thought  it  was  the 
man." 

"  Has  some  one  been  in,  then  ?" 

"  Yes  ;  they  brought  those  two  loaves  and  a  jug  of  water, 
just  about  dawn,  when  I  was  settling  down  for  a  rest." 

"  And  did  he  say  anything  ?" 

"  No  ;  it  was  the  little  black  one." 

"  Simon,  they  called  him." 

"The  same.  He  laid  the  things  down  and  was  gone.  I 
thought  that  maybe  if  he  came  again  we  might  get  him  to 
stop." 

"  How,  then  ?" 

"  Maybe  if  we  got  these  stirrup  leathers  round  his  ankles 
he  would  not  get  them  off  quite  as  easy  as  we  have  done." 

"  And  what  then  ?" 

"  Well,  he  would  tell  us  where  we  are,  and  what  is  to  be 
done  with  us." 

"  Pshaw  !  what  does  it  matter,  since  our  mission  is  done." 

"  It  may  not  matter  to  you — there's  no  accounting  for 
tastes — but  it  matters  a  good  deal  to  me.  I'm  not  used  to 
sitting  in  a  hole,  like  a  bear  in  a  trap,  waiting  for  what 
other  folks  choose  to  do  with  me.  It's  new  to  me.  I  found 
Paris  a  pretty  close  sort  of  place,  but  it's  a  prairie  compared 
to  this.  It  don't  suit  a  man  of  my  habits,  and  I  am  going 
to  come  out  of  it." 

"  There's  no  help  but  patience,  my  friend." 

M  163 


"  I  don't  know  that.  I'd  get  more  help  out  of  a  bar  and 
a  few  pegs."  He  opened  his  coat,  and  took  out  a  short 
piece  of  rusted  iron,  and  three  small  thick  pieces  of  wood, 
sharpened  at  one  end. 

"  Where  did  you  get  those,  then  ?" 

"  These  are  my  night's  work.  The  bar  is  the  top  one  of 
the  grate.  I  had  a  job  to  loosen  it,  but  there  it  is.  The 
pegs  I  whittled  out  of  that  log." 

"  And  what  are  they  for  ?" 

"  Well,  you  see,  peg  number  one  goes  in  here,  where  I 
have  picked  a  hole  between  the  stones.  Then  I've  made 
this  other  log  into  .a  mallet,  and  with  two  cracks  there  it  is 
firm  fixed,  so  that  you  can  put  your  weight  on  it.  Now 
these  two  go  in  the  same  way  into  the  holes  above  here. 
So  !  Now,  you  see,  you  can  stand  up  there  and  look  out  of 
that  window  without  asking  too  much  of  your  toe  joint. 
Try  it." 

De  Catinat  sprang  up  and  looked  eagerly  out  between 
the  bars. 

"I  do  not  know  the  place,"  said  he,  shaking  his  head. 
"  It  may  be  any  one  of  thirty  castles  which  lie  upon  the 
south  side  of  Paris,  and  within  six  or  seven  leagues  of  it. 
Which  can  it  be  ?  And  who  has  any  interest  in  treating 
us  so  ?  I  would  that  I  could  see  a  coat  of  arms,  which 
might  help  us.  Ah  !  there  is  one  yonder  in  the  centre  of 
the  mullion  of  the  window.  But  I  can  scarce  read  it  at 
the  distance.  I  warrant  that  your  eyes  are  better  than 
mine,  Amos,  and  that  you  can  read  what  is  on  yonder 
escutcheon." 

"  On  what  ?" 

"On  the  stone  slab  in  the  centre  window." 

"  Yes,  I  see  it  plain  enough.  It  looks  to  me  like  three 
turkey- buzzards  sitting  on  a  barrel  of  molasses." 

"  Three  allurions  in  chief  over  a  tower  proper,  maybe. 
Those  are  the  arms  of  the  Provence  de  Hautevilles.  But 
it  cannot  be  that.  They  have  no  chateau  within  a  hun- 
dred leagues.  No,  I  cannot  tell  where  we  are." 

He  was  dropping  back  to  the  floor,  and  put  his  weight 
upon  the  bar.  To  his  amazement,  it  came  away  in  his  hand. 

164 


"  Look,  Amos,  look  !"  he  cried. 

"  Ah,  you've  found  it  out !  Well,  I  did  that  during  the 
night" 

"  And  how  ?     With  your  knife  ?" 

"  No ;  I  could  make  no  way  with  my  knife ;  but  when  I 
got  the  bar  out  of  the  grate,  I  managed  faster.  I'll  put 
this  one  back  now,  or  some  of  those  folk  down  below  may 
notice  that  we  have  got  it  loose." 

"  Are  they  all  loose  ?" 

"  Only  the  one  at  present,  but  we'll  get  the  other  two  out 
during  the  night.  You  can  take  that  bar  out  and  work 
with  it,  while  I  use  my  own  picker  at  the  other.  You  see, 
the  stone  is  soft,  and  by  grinding  it  you  soon  make  a 
groove,  along  which  you  can  slip  the  bar.  It  will  be  mighty 
queer  if  we  can't  clear  a  road  for  ourselves  before  morning." 

"  Well,  but  even  if  we  could  get  out  into  the  court-yard, 
where  could  we  turn  to  then  ?" 

"  One  thing  at  a  time,  friend.  You  might  as  well  stick 
at  the  Kennebec  because  you  could  not  see  how  you  would 
cross  the  Penobscot.  Anyway,  there  is  more  air  in  the 
yard  than  in  here,  and  when  the  window  is  clear  we  shall 
soon  plan  out  the  rest." 

The  two  comrades  did  not  dare  to  do  any  work  during 
the  day,  for  fear  they  should  be  surprised  by  the  jailer,  or 
observed  from  without.  No  one  came  near  them,  but  they 
ate  their  loaves  and  drank  their  water  with  the  appetite  of 
men  who  had  often  known  what  it  was  to  be  without  even 
such  simple  food  as  that.  The  instant  that  night  fell  they 
were  both  up  upon  the  pegs,  grinding  away  at  the  hard 
stone  and  tugging  at  the  bars.  It  was  a  rainy  night,  and 
there  was  a  sharp  thunder-storm,  but  they  could  see  very 
well,  while  the  shadow  of  the  arched  window  prevented 
their  being  seen.  Before  midnight  they  had  loosened  one 
bar,  and  the  other  was  just  beginning  to  give,  when  some 
slight  noise  made  them  turn  their  heads,  and  there  was 
their  jailer  standing,  open  -  mouthed,  in  the  middle  of  the 
cell,  staring  up  at  them. 

It  was  de  Catinat  who  observed  him  first,  and  he  sprang 
down  at  him  in  an  instant  with  his  bar ;  but  at  his  move- 

165 


ment  the  man  rushed  for  the  door,  and  drew  it  after  him 
just  as  the  American's  tool  whizzed  past  his  ear  and  down 
the  passage.  As  the  door  slammed,  the  two  comrades 
looked  at  each  other.  The  guardsman  shrugged  his  shoul- 
ders and  the  other  whistled. 

"  It  is  scarce  worth  while  to  go  on,"  said  de  Catinat. 

"  We  may  as  well  be  doing  that  as  anything  else.  If  my 
picker  had  been  an  inch  lower  I'd  have  had  him.  Well, 
maybe  he'll  get  a  stroke,  or  break  his  neck  down  those 
stairs.  I've  nothing  to  work  with  now,  but  a  few  rubs  with 
your  bar  will  finish  the  job.  Ah  dear  !  You  are  right,  and 
we  are  fairly  treed !" 

A  great  bell  had  begun  to  ring  in  the  chateau,  and  there 
was  a  loud  buzz  of  voices  and  a  clatter  of  feet  upon  the 
stones.  Hoarse  orders  were  shouted,  and  there  was  the 
sound  of  turning  keys.  All  this  coming  suddenly  in  the 
midst  of  the  stillness  of  the  night  showed  only  too  certainly 
that  the  alarm  had  been  given.  Amos  Green  threw  himself 
down  in  the  straw,  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  and  de 
Catinat  leaned  sulkily  against  the  wall,  waiting  for  whatever 
might  come  to  him.  Five  minutes  passed,  however,  and 
yet  another  five  minutes,  without  any  one  appearing.  The 
hubbub  in' the  court-yard  continued,  but  there  was  no  sound 
in  the  corridor  which  led  to  their  cell. 

"  Well,  I'll  have  that  bar  out,  after  all,"  said  the  Ameri- 
can at  last,  rising  and  stepping  over  to  the  window.  "Any- 
how, we'll  see  what  all  this  caterwauling  is  about."  He 
climbed  up  on  his  pegs  as  he  spoke,  and  peeped  out. 

"  Come  up  !"  he  cried  excitedly  to  his  comrade.  "  They've 
got  some  other  game  going  on  here,  and  they  are  all  a  deal 
too  busy  to  bother  their  heads  about  us." 

De  Catinat  clambered  up  beside  him,  and  the  two  stood 
staring  down  into  the  court-yard.  A  brazier  had  been  lit  at 
each  corner,  and  the  place  was  thronged  with  men,  many  of 
whom  carried  torches.  The  yellow  glare  played  fitfully  over 
the  grim  gray  walls,  flickering  up  sometimes  until  the  high- 
est turrets  shone  golden  against  the  black  sky,  and  then,  as 
the  wind  caught  them,  dying  away  until  they  scarce  threw 
a  glow  upon  the  cheek  of  their  bearer.  The  main  gate  was 

166 


open,  and  a  carriage,  which  had  apparently  just  driven  in, 
was  standing  at  a  small  door  immediately  in  fjont  of  their 
window.  The  wheels  and  sides  were  brown  with  mud,  and 
the  two  horses  were  reeking  and  heavy-headed,  as  though 
their  journey  had  been  both  swift  and  long.  A  man  wear- 
ing a  plumed  hat  and  enveloped  in  a  riding-coat  had  stepped 
from  the  carriage,  and  then,  turning  round,  had  dragged  a 
second  person  out  after  him.  There  was  a  scuffle,  a  cry,  a 
push,  and  the  two  figures  had  vanished  through  the  door. 
As  it  closed,  the  carriage  drove  away,  the  torches  and  bra- 
ziers were  extinguished,  the  main  gate  was  closed  once  more, 
and  all  was  as  quiet  as  before  this  sudden  interruption. 

"  Well !"  gasped  de  Catinat.  "  Is  this  another  king's 
messenger  they've  got  ?" 

"There  will  be  lodgings  for  two  more  here  in  a  short 
time,"  said  Amos  Green.  "If  they  only  leave  us  alone, 
this  cell  won't  hold  us  long." 

"  I  wonder  where  that  jailer  has  gone  ?" 

"  He  may  go  where  he  likes,  as  long  as  he  keeps  away 
from  here.  Give  me  your  bar  again.  This  thing  is  giving. 
It  won't  take  us  long  to  have  it  out."  He  set  to  work  furi- 
ously, trying  to  deepen  the  groove  in  the  stone,  through 
which  he  hoped  to  drag  the  staple.  Suddenly  he  ceased, 
and  strained  his  ears. 

"By  thunder!"  said  he,  "there's  some  one  working  on 
the  other  side." 

They  both  stood  listening.  There  were  the  thud  of  ham- 
mers, the  rasping  of  a  saw,  and  the  clatter  of  wood  from  the 
other  side  of  the  wall. 

"  What  can  they  be  doing  ?" 

"  I  can't  think." 

"  Can  you  see  them  ?" 

"They  are  too  near  the  wall." 

"  I  think  I  can  manage,"  said  de  Catinat.  "  I  am  slighter 
than  you."  He  pushed  his  head  and  neck  and  half  of  one 
shoulder  through  the  gap  between  the  bars,  and  there  he  re- 
mained until  his  friend  thought  that  perhaps  he  had  stuck, 
and  pulled  at  his  legs  to  extricate  him.  He  writhed  back, 
however,  without  any  difficulty. 

167 


"  They  are  building  something,"  he  whispered. 

"  Building !" 

"  Yes.     There  are  four  of  them,  with  a  lantern." 

"  What  can  they  be  building,  then  ?" 

"It's  a  shed,  I  think.  I  can  see  four  sockets  in  the 
ground,  and  they  are  fixing  four  uprights  into  them." 

"  Well,  we  can't  get  away  as  long  as  there  are  four  men 
just  under  our  window." 

"  Impossible." 

"But  we  may  as  well  finish  our  work,  for  all  that." 

The  gentle  scrapings  of  his  iron  were  drowned  amid  the 
noise  which  swelled  ever  louder  from  without.  The  bar 
loosened  at  the  end,  and  he  drew  it  slowly  towards  him. 
At  that  instant,  however,  just  as  he  was  disengaging  it,  a 
round  head  appeared  between  him  and  the  moonlight,  a 
head  with  a  great  shock  of  tangled  hair,  and  a  woollen  cap 
upon  the  top  of  it.  So  astonished  was  Amos  Green  at  the 
sudden  apparition  that  he  let  go  his  grip  upon  the  bar, 
which,  falling  outward,  toppled  over  the  edge  of  the  win- 
dow-sill. 

"  You  great  foot!"  shrieked  a  voice  from  below,  "  are  your 
fingers  ever  to  be  thumbs,  then,  that  you  should  fumble  your 
tools  so  ?  A  thousand  thunders  of  heaven !  You  have 
broken  my  shoulder." 

"  What  is  it,  then  ?"  cried  the  other.  "  My  faith,  Pierre, 
if  your  fingers  went  as  fast  as  your  tongue,  you  would  be 
the  first  joiner  in  France." 

"  What  is  it,  you  ape !  You  have  dropped  your  tool  upon 
me." 

"  I !     I  have  dropped  nothing." 

"  Idiot !  Would  you  have  me  believe  that  iron  falls  from 
the  sky  ?  I  say  that  you  have  struck  me,  you  foolish,  clumsy- 
fingered  lout." 

"  I  have  not  struck  you  yet,"  cried  the  other,  "  but,  by  the 
Virgin,  if  I  have  more  of  this  I  will  come  down  the  ladder 
to  you!" 

"  Silence,  you  good  -  for  -  naughts  !"  said  a  third  voice, 
sternly.  "  If  the  work  be  not  done  by  daybreak,  there  will 
be  a  heavy  reckoning  for  somebody." 

163 


And  again  the  steady  hammering  and  sawing  went  for- 
ward. The  head  still  passed  and  repassed,  its  owner  walk- 
ing apparently  upon  some  platform  which  they  had  con- 
structed beneath  their  window,  but  never  giving  a  glance 
or  a  thought  to  the  black  square  opening  beside  him.  It 
was  early  morning,  and  the  first  cold  light  was  beginning 
to  steal  over  the  court-yard,  before  the  work  was  at  last  fin- 
ished .and  the  workmen  had  left.  Then  at  last  the  prisoners 
dared  to  climb  up  and  to  see  what  it  was  which  had  been 
constructed  during  the  night.  It  gave  them  a  catch  of  the 
breath  as  they  looked  at  it.  It  was  a  scaffold. 

There  it  lay,  the  ill-omened  platform  of  dark  greasy  boards 
newly  fastened  together,  but  evidently  used  often  before  for 
the  same  purpose.  It  was  buttressed  up  against  their  wall, 
and  extended  a  clear  twenty  feet  out,  with  a  broad  wooden 
stair  leading  down  from  the  farther  side.  In  the  centre 
stood  a  headsman's  block,  all  haggled  at  the  top,  and 
smeared  with  rust-colored  stains. 

"  I  think  it  is  time  that  we  left,"  said  Amos  Green. 

"  Our  work  is  all  in  vain,  Amos,"  said  de  Catinat,  sadly. 
"Whatever  our  fate  may  be — and  this  looks  ill  enough— 
we  can  but  submit  to  it  like  brave  men." 

"Tut,  man;  the  window  is  clear!  Let  us  make  a  rush 
{for  it." 

"  It  is  useless.  I  can  see  a  line  of  armed  men  along  the 
father  side  of  the  yard." 

"  A  line  !     At  this  hour  !" 

"  Yes  ;  and  here  come  more.  See,  at  the  centre  gate ! 
Now  what  in  the  name  of  Heaven  is  this  ?" 

"  As  he  spoke  the  door  which  faced  them  opened,  and  a 
singular  procession  filed  out.  First  came  two  dozen  foot- 
men, walking  in  pairs,  all  carrying  halberds,  and  clad  in  the 
same  maroon-colored  liveries.  After  them  a  huge  bearded 
man,  with  his  tunic  off,  and  the  sleeves  of  his  coarse  shirt 
rolled  up  over  his  elbows,  strode  along  with  a  great  axe  over 
his  left  shoulder.  Behind  him,  a  priest  with. an  open  missal 
pattered  forth  prayers,  and  in  his  shadow  was  a  woman, 
clad  in  black,  her  neck  bared,  and  a  black  shawl  cast  over 
her  head  and  drooping  in  front  of  her  bowed  face.  Within 

169 


grip  of  her  walked  a  tall,  thin,  fierce-faced  man,  with  harsh 
red  features,  and  a  great  jutting  nose.  He  wore  a  flat  vel- 
vet cap  with  a  single  eagle  feather  fastened  into  it  by  a  dia- 
mond clasp,  which  gleamed  in  the  morning  light.  But 
bright  as  was  his  gem,  his  dark  eyes  were  brighter  still,  and 
sparkled  from  under  his  bushy  brows  with  a  mad  brilliancy 
which  bore  with  it  something  of  menace  and  of  terror. 
His  limbs  jerked  as  he  walked,  his  features  twisted,  and  he 
carried  himself  like  a  man  who  strives  hard  to  hold  himself 
in  when  his  whole  soul  is  aflame  with  exultation.  Behind 
him  again  twelve  more  maroon-clad  retainers  brought  up 
the  rear  of  this  singular  procession. 

The  woman  had  faltered  at  the  foot  of  the  scaffold,  but 
the  man  behind  her  had  thrust  her  forward  with  such  force 
that  she  stumbled  over  the  lower  step,  and  would  have 
fallen  had  she  not  clutched  at  the  arm  of  the  priest.  At 
the  top  of  the  ladder  her  eyes  met  the  dreadful  block,  and 
she  burst  into  a  scream,  and  shrunk  backward.  But  again 
the  man  thrust  her  on,  and  two  of  the  followers  caught  her 
by  either  wrist  and  dragged  her  forward. 

"  Oh,  Maurice  !  Maurice  !"  she  screamed.  "  I  am  not  fit 
to  die !  Oh,  forgive  me,  Maurice,  as  you  hope  for  forgive- 
ness yourself !  Maurice  !  Maurice  !"  She  strove  to  get  tow- 
ards him,  to  clutch  at  his  wrist,  at  his  sleeve,  but  he  stood 
with  his  hand  on  his  sword,  gazing  at  her  with  a  face  which 
was  all  wreathed  and  contorted  with  merriment.  At  the 
sight  of  that  dreadful  mocking  face  the  prayers  froze  upon 
her  lips.  As  well  pray  for  mercy  to  the  dropping  stone  or 
to  the  rushing  stream.  She  turned  away,  and  threw  back 
the  mantle  which  had  shrouded  her  features. 

"Ah,  sire!"  she  cried.  "Sire!  If  you  could  see  me 
now  !" 

And  at  the  cry  and  at  the  sight  of  that  fair  pale  face,  de 
Catinat,  looking  down  from  the  window,  was  stricken  as 
though  by  a  dagger  ;  for  there  standing  beside  the  heads- 
man's block  was  she  who  had  been  the  most  powerful,  as 
well  as  the  wittiest  and  the  fairest,  of  the  women  of  France 
—none  other  than  Fran9oise  de  Montespan,  so  lately  the 
favorite  of  the  King. 

170 


CHAPTER    XIX 
IN    THE    KING'S    CABINET. 

ON  the  night  upon  which  such  strange  chances  had  be- 
fallen his  messengers,  the  King  sat  alone  in  his  cabinet. 
Over  his  head  a  perfumed  lamp,  held  up  by  four  little  flying 
Cupids  of  crystal,  who  dangled  by  golden  chains  from  the 
painted  ceiling,  cast  a  brilliant  light  upon  the  chamber, 
which  was  flashed  back  twenty-fold  by  the  mirrors  upon  the 
wall.  The  ebony  and  silver  furniture,  the  dainty  carpet  of 
La  Savonniere,  the  silks  of  Tours,  the  tapestries  of  the  Gob- 
elins, the  gold-work  and  the  delicate  china-ware  of  Sevres — 
the  best  of  all  that  France  could  produce  was  centred  be- 
tween these  four  walls.  Nothing  had  ever  passed  through 
that  door  which  was  not  a  masterpiece  of  its  kind.  And 
amid  all  this  brilliance  the  master  of  it  sat,  his  chin  rest- 
ing upon  his  hands,  his  elbows  upon  the  table,  with  eyes 
which  stared  vacantly  at  the  wall,  a  moody  and  a  solemn 
man. 

But  though  his  dark  eyes  were  fixed  upon  the  wall,  they 
saw  nothing  of  it.  They  looked  rather  down  the  long  vista 
of  his  own  life,  away  to  those  early  years  when  what  we 
dream  and  what  we  do  shade  so  mistily  into  one  another. 
Was  it  a  dream  or  was  it  a  fact,  those  two  men  who  used  to 
stoop  over  his  baby  crib,  the  one  with  the  dark  coat  and 
the  star  upon  his  breast,  whom  he  had  been  taught  to  call 
father,  and  the  other  one  with  the  long  red  gown  and  the 
little  twinkling  eyes  ?  Even  now,  after  more  than  forty 
years,  that  wicked,  astute,  powerful  face  flashed  up,  and  he 
saw  once  more  old  Richelieu,  the  great  unanointed  King  of 
France.  And  then  that  other  Cardinal,  the  long  lean  one 
who  had  taken  his  pocket-money,  and  had  grudged  him  his 


food,  and  had  dressed  him  in  old  clothes.  How  well  he 
could  recall  the  day  when  Mazajin  had  rouged  himself  for 
the  last  time,  and  how  the  court  had  danced  with  joy  at  the 
news  that  he  was  no  more  !  And  his  mother,  too,  how 
beautiful  she  was,  and  how  masterful !  Could  he  not  re- 
member how  bravely  she  had  borne  herself  during  that  war 
in  which  the  power  of  the  great  nobles  had  been  broken, 
and  how  she  had  at  last  lain  down  to  die,  imploring  the 
priests  not  to  stain  her  cap -strings  with  their  holy  oils! 
And  then  he  thought  of  what  he  had  done  himself,  how  he 
had  shorn  down  his  great  subjects  until,  instead  of  being 
like  a  tree  among  saplings,  he  had  been  alone,  far  above  all 
others,  with  his  shadow  covering  the  whole  land.  Then 
there  were  his  wars  and  his  laws  and  his  treaties.  Under 
his  care  France  had  overflowed  her  frontiers  both  on  the 
north  and  on  the  east,  and  yet  had  been  so  welded  together 
internally  that  she  had  but  one  voice,  with  which  she  spoke 
through  him.  And  then  there  was  that  line  of  beautiful 
faces  which  wavered  up  in  front  of  him.  There  was  Olympe 
de  Mancini,  whose  Italian  eyes  had  first  taught  him  that 
there  is  a  power  which  can  rule  over  a  king  ;  her  sister,  too, 
Marie  de  Mancini ;  his  wife,  with  her  dark  little  sun-browned 
face  ;  Henrietta  of  England,  whose  death  had  first  shown 
him  the  horrors  which  lie  in  life  ;  La  Valliere,  Montespan, 
Fontanges.  Some  were  dead  ;  some  were  in  convents. 
Some  who  had  been  wicked  and  beautiful  were  now  only 
wicked.  And  what  had  been  the  outcome  of  all  this 
troubled,  striving  life  of  his  ?  He  was  already  at  the  outer 
verge  of  his  middle  years  ;  he  had  lost  his  taste  for  the 
pleasures  of  his  youth ;  gout  and  vertigo  were  ever  at  his 
foot  and  at  his  head  to  remind  him  that  between  them  lay 
a  kingdom  which  he  could  not  hope  to  govern.  And  after 
all  these  years  he  had  not  won  a  single  true  friend,  not  one, 
in  his  family,  in  his  court,  in  his  country,  save  only  this  wom- 
an whom  he  was  to  wed  that  night.  And  she,  how  patient 
she  was,  how  good,  how  lofty !  With  her  he  might  hope  to 
wipe  off  by  the  true  glory  of  his  remaining  years  all  the  sin 
and  the  folly  of  the  past.  Would  that  the  Archbishop  might 
come,  that  he  might  feel  that  she  was  indeed  his,  that  he 

172 


held  her  with  hooks  of  steel  which  would  bind  them  as  long 
as  life  should  last ! 

There  came  a  tap  at  the  door.  He  sprang  up  eagerly, 
thinking  that  the  ecclesiastic  might  have  arrived.  It  was, 
however,  only  his  personal  attendant,  to  say  that  Louvois 
would  crave  an  interview.  Close  at  his  heels  came  the  min- 
ister himself,  high-nosed  and  heavy-chinned.  Two  leather 
bags  were  dangling  from  his  hand. 

"  Sire,"  said  he,  when  Bontems  had  retired,  "  I  trust  that 
I  do  not  intrude  upon  you." 

"  No,  no,  Louvois.  My  thoughts  were  in  truth  beginning  to 
be  very  indifferent  company,  and  I  am  glad  to  be  rid  of  them." 

"  Your  Majesty's  thoughts  can  never,  I  am  sure,  be  any- 
thing but  pleasant,"  said  the  courtier.  "  But  I  have  brought 
you  here  something  which  I  trust  may  make  them  even 
more  so." 

"  Ah  !     What  is  that  ?" 

"  When  so  many  of  our  young  nobles  went  into  Germany 
and  Hungary,  you  were  pleased  in  your  wisdom  to  say  that 
you  would  like  well  to  see  what  reports  they  sent  home  to 
their  friends ;  also  what  news  was  sent  out  from  the  court 
to  them." 

"  Yes." 

"  I  have  them  here — all  that  the  courier  has  brought  in, 
and  all  that  are  gathered  to  go  out,  each  in  its  own  bag. 
The  wax  has  been  softened  in  spirit,  the  fastenings  have 
been  steamed,  and  they  are  now  open." 

The  King  took  out  a  handful  of  the  letters  and  glanced 
at  the  addresses. 

"  I  should  indeed  like  to  read  the  hearts  of  these  people," 
said  he.  "  Thus  only  can  I  tell  the  true  thoughts  of  those 
who  bow  and  simper  before  my  face.  I  suppose,"  with  a 
sudden  flash  of  suspicion  from  his  eyes,  "  that  you  have  not 
yourself  looked  into  these  ?" 

"  Oh,  sire,  I  had  rather  die  !" 

"  You  swear  it  ?" 

"  As  I  hope  for  salvation  !" 

"  Hum  !  There  is  one  among  these  which  I  see  is  from 
your  own  son." 

173 


Louvois  changed  color,  and  stammered  as  he  looked  at 
the  envelope.  "  Your  Majesty  will  find  that  he  is  as  loyal 
out  of  your  presence  as  in  it,  else  he  is  no  son  of  mine," 
said  he. 

"  Then  we  shall  begin  with  his.  Ha !  it  is  but  ten  lines 
long.  *  Dearest  Achille,  how  I  long  for  you  to  come  back  ! 
The  court  is  as  dull  as  a  cloister  now  that  you  are  gone. 
My  ridiculous  father  still  struts  about  like  a  turkey-cock,  as 
if  all  his  medals  and  crosses  could  cover  the  fact  that  he  is 
but  a  head  lackey,  with  no  more  real  power  than  I  have. 
He  wheedles  a  good  deal  out  of  the  King,  but  what  he  does 
with  it  I  cannot  imagine,  for  little  comes  my  way.  I  still 
owe  those  ten  thousand  livres  to  the  man  in  the  Rue  Or- 
fevre.  Unless  I  have  some  luck  at  lansquenet,  I  shall  have 
to  come  out  soon  and  join  you.'  Hem !  I  did  you  an  in- 
justice, Louvois.  I  see  that  you  have  not  looked  over  these 
letters." 

The  minister  had  sat  with  a  face  which  was  the  color  of 
beet  root,  and  eyes  which  projected  from  his  head,  while 
this  epistle  was  being  read.  It  was  with  relief  that  he  came 
to  the  end  of  it,  for  at  least  there  was  nothing  which  com- 
promised him  seriously  with  the  King ;  but  every  nerve  in 
his  great  body  tingled  with  rage  as  he  thought  of  the  way 
in  which  his  young  scapegrace  had  alluded  to  him.  "  The 
viper !"  he  cried.  "  Oh,  the  foul  snake  in  the  grass  !  I 
will  make  him  curse  the  day  that  he  was  born." 

"Tut,  tut,  Louvois!"  said  the  King.  "You  are  a  man 
who  has  seen  much  of  life,  and  you  should  be  a  philoso- 
pher. Hot-headed  youth  says  ever  more  than  it  means. 
Think  no  more  of  the  matter.  But  what  have  we  here  ? 
A  letter  from  my  dearest  girl  to  her  husband,  the  Prince 
of  Conti.  I  would  pick  her  writing  out  of  a  thousand. 
Ah,  dear  soul,  she  little  thought  that  my  eyes  would  see  her 
artless  prattle !  Why  should  I  read  it,  since  I  already 
know  every  thought  of  her  innocent  heart?"  He  unfolded 
the  sheet  of  pink  scented  paper  with  a  fond  smile  upon  his 
face,  but  it  faded  away  as  his  eyes  glanced  down  the  page, 
and  he  sprang  to  his  feet  with  a  snarl  of  anger,  his  hand 
over  his  heart  and  his  eyes  still  glued  to  the  paper. 

174 


"  Minx !"  he  cried,  in  a  choking  voice.  "  Impertinent, 
heartless  minx!  Louvois,  you  know  what  I  have  done  for 
the  princess.  You  know  that  she  has  been  the  apple  of 
my  eye.  What  have  I  ever  grudged  her  ?  What  have  I 
ever  denied  her  ?" 

"  You  have  been  goodness  itself,^sire,"  said  Louvois, 
whose  own  wounds  smarted  less  now  that  he  saw  his 
master  writhing. 

"Hear  what  she  says  of  me:  'Old  Father  Grumpy  is 
much  as  usual,  save  that  he  gives  a  little  at  the  knees. 
You  remember  how  we  used  to  laugh  at  his  airs  and 
graces !  Well,  he  has  given  up  all  that,  and  though  he 
still  struts  about  on  great  high  heels,  like  a  Landes  peasant 
on  his  stilts,  he  has  no  brightness  at  all  in  his  clothes.  Of 
course  all  the  court  follow  his  example,  so  you  can  imagine 
what  a  nightmare  place  this  is.  Then  this  woman  still 
keeps  in  favor,  and  her  frocks  are  as  dismal  as  Grumpy's 
coats ;  so  when  you  come  back  we  shall  go  into  the  coun- 
try together,  and  you  shall  dress  in  red  velvet,  and  I  shall 
wear  blue  silk,  and  we  shall  have  a  little  colored  court  of 
our  own  in  spite  of  my  majestic  papa.'  " 

Louis  sank  his  face  in  his  hands. 

"You  hear  how  she  speaks  of  me,  Louvois." 

"  It  is  infamous,  sire  ;  infamous  !" 

"  She  calls  me  names— me,  Louvois  !" 

"Atrocious, -sire." 

"  And  my  knees  !  One  would  think  that  I  was  an  old 
man  !" 

"  Scandalous !  But,  sire,  I  would  beg  to  say  that  it  is  a 
case  in  which  your  Majesty's  philosophy  may  well  soften 
your  anger.  Youth  is  ever  hot-headed,  and  says  more 
than  it  means.  Think  no  more  of  the  matter." 

"  You  speak  like  a  fool,  Louvois.  The  child  that  I  have 
loved  turns  upon  me,  and  you  ask  me  to  think  no  more  of 
it.  Ah,  it  is  one  more  lesson  that  a  king  can  trust  least  of 
all  those  who  have  his  own  blood  in  their  veins.  What 
writing  is  this  ?  It  is  the  good  Cardinal  de  Bouillon.  One 
may  not  have  faith  in  one's  own  kin,  but  this  sainted  man 
loves  me,  not  only  because  I  have  placed  him  where  he  is, 


but  because  it  is  his  nature  to  look  up  and  to  love  those 
whom  God  has  placed  above  him.  I  will  read  you  his  let- 
ter, Louvois,  to  show  you  that  there  is  still  such  a  thing  as 
loyalty  and  gratitude  in  France.  *  My  dear  Prince  de  la 
Roche- sur- Yon.'  Ah,  it  is  to  him  he  writes.  '  I  promised 
when  you  left  that  I  would  let  you  know  from  time  to  time 
how  things  were  going  at  court,  as  you  consulted  me  about 
bringing  your  daughter  up  from  Anjou,  in  the  hope  that 
she  might  catch  the  King's  fancy.'  What !  What !  Louvois  ! 
What  villany  is  this  ?  *  The  Sultan  goes  from  bad  to  worse. 
The  Fontanges  was  at  least  the  prettiest  woman  in  France, 
though  between  ourselves  there  was  just  a  shade  too  much 
of  the  red  in  her  hair — an  excellent  color  in  a  cardinal's 
gown,  my  dear  Duke,  but  nothing  brighter  than  chestnut  is 
permissible  in  a  lady.  The  Montespan,  too,  was  a  fine 
woman  in  her  day,  but  fancy  his  picking  up  now  with  a 
widow  who  is  older  than  himself,  a  woman,  too,  who  does 
not  even  try  to  make  herself  attractive,  but  kneels  at  her 
prie-dieu  or  works  at  her  tapestry  from  morning  to  night. 
They  say  that  December  and  May  make  a  bad  match,  but 
my  own  opinion  is  that  two  Novembers  make  an  even 
worse  one.'  Louvois !  Louvois !  I  can  read  no  more. 
Have  you  a  lettre  de  cachet  ?" 

"  There  is  one  here,  sire." 

"  For  the  Bastille  ?" 

"  No  ;  for  Vincennes." 

"  That  will  do  very  well.  Fill  it  up,  Louvois  !  Put  this 
villain's  name  in  it  !  Let  him  be  arrested  to-night,  and 
taken  there  in  his  own  caleche.  The  shameless,  ungrate- 
ful, foul-mouthed  villain  !  Why  did  you  bring  me  these 
letters,  Louvois?  Oh,  why  did  you  yield  to  my  foolish 
whim  ?  My  God,  is  there  no  truth,  or  honor,  or  loyalty  in 
the  world !".  He  stamped  his  feet,  and  shook  his  hands  in 
the  air  in  the  frenzy  of  his  anger  and  disappointment. 

"Shall  I,  then,  put.  back  the  others ?"  asked  Louvois, 
eagerly.  He  had  been  oh  thorns  since  the  King  had  be- 
gun to  read  them,  not  knowing  what  disclosures  might 
come  next. 

"  Put  them  back,  but  keep  the  bag." 
176 


"  Both  bags  ?" 

"  Ah !  I  had  forgot  the  other  one.  Perhaps  if  I  have 
hypocrites  around  me,  I  have  at  least  some  honest  subjects 
at  a  distance.  Let  us  take  one  hap-hazard.  Who  is  this 
from  ?  Ah  !  it  is  from  the  Due  de  la  Rochefoucauld.  He 
has  ever  seemed  to  be  a  modest  and  dutiful  young  man. 
What  has  he  to  say  ?  The  Danube — Belgrade — the  Grand 
Vizier —  Ah  !"  He  gave  a  cry  as  if  he  had  been  stabbed. 

"  WThat,  then,  sire  ?"  The  minister  had  taken  a  step  for- 
ward, for  he  was  frightened  by  the  expression  upon  the 
King's  face. 

"  Take  them  away,  Louvois  !  Take  them  away  ?"  he 
cried,  pushing  the  pile  of  papers  away  from  him.  "  I  would 
that  I  had  never  seen  them !  I  will  look  at  them  no  more  ! 
He  gibes  even  at  my  courage,  I  who  was  in  the  trenches 
when  he  was  in  his  cradle  !  '  This  war  would  not  suit  the 
King,'  he  says.  *  For  there  are  battles,  and  none  of  the 
nice  little  safe  sieges  which  are  so  dear  to  him.'  By  God, 
he  shall  pay  to  me  with  his  head  for  that  jest !  Ay,  Lou- 
vois, it  will  be  a  dear  gibe  to  him.  But  take  them  away. 
I  have  seen  as  much  as  I  can  bear." 

The  minister  was  thrusting  them  back  into  the  bag  when 
suddenly  his  eye  caught  the  bold,  clear  writing  of  Madame 
de  Maintenon  upon  one  of  the  letters.  Some  demon  whis- 
pered to  him  that  here  was  a  weapon  which  had  been 
placed  in  his  hands,  with  which  he  might  strike  one  whose 
very  name  filled  him  with  jealousy  and  hatred.  Had  she 
been  guilty  of  some  indiscretion  in  this  note,  then  he  might 
even  now,  at  this  last  hour,  turn  the  King's  heart  against 
her.  He  was  an  astute  man,  and  in  an  instant  he  had 
seen  his  chance  and  grasped  it. 

"  Ha !"  said  he,  "  it  was  hardly  necessary  to  open  this 
one." 

"  Which,  Louvois  ?     Whose  is  it  ?" 

The  minister  pushed  forward  the  letter,  and  Louis  started 
as  his  eyes  fell  upon  it. 

"  Madame's  writing  !"  he  gasped. 

"  Yes  ;  it  is  to  her  nephew  in  Germany." 

Louis  took  it  in  his  hand.  Then,  with  a  sudden  motion, 

177 


he  threw  it  down  among  the  others,  and  then  yet  .again  his 
hand  stole  towards  it.  His  face  was  gray  and  haggard, 
and  beads  of  moisture  had  broken  out  upon  his  brow.  If 
this  too  were  to  prove  to  be  as  the  others  !  He  was  shaken 
to  the  soul  at  the  very  thought.  Twice  he  tried  to  pluck  it 
out,  and  twice  his  trembling  fingers  fumbled  with  the  pa- 
per. Then  he  tossed  it  over  to  Louvois.  "  Read  it  to  me," 
said  he. 

The  minister  opened  the  letter  out  and  flattened  it  upon 
the  table,  with  a  malicious  light  dancing  in  his  eyes,  which 
might  have  cost  him  his  position  had  the  King  but  read  it 
aright. 

"'My  dear  nephew,'"  he  read,  "*  what  you  ask  me  in 
your  last  is  absolutely  impossible.  I  have  never  abused 
the  King's  favor  so  far  as  to  ask  for  any  profit  for  myself, 
and  I  should  be  equally  sorry  to  solicit  any  advance  for  my 
relatives.  No  one  would  rejoice  more  than  I  to  see  you 
rise  to  be  major  in  your  regiment,  but  your  valor  and  your 
loyalty  must  be  the  cause,  and  you  must  not  hope  to  do  it 
through  any  word  of  mine.  To  serve  such  a  man  as  the 
King  is  its  own  reward,  and  I  am  sure  that  whether  you 
remain  a  cornet  or  rise  to  some  higher  rank,  you  will  be 
equally  zealous  in  his  cause.  He  is  surrounded,  unhap- 
pily, by  many  base  parasites.  Some  of  these  are  mere 
fools,  like  Lauzun ;  others  are  knaves,  like  the  late  Fou- 
quet ;  and  some  seem  to  be  both  fools  and  knaves,  like 
Louvois,  the  Minister  of  War.' "  Here  the  reader  choked 
with  rage,  and  sat  gurgling  and  drumming  his  fingers  upon 
the  table. 

"  Go  on,  Louvois,  go  on,"  said  Louis,  smiling  up  at  the 
ceiling. 

" '  These  are  the  clouds  which  surround  the  sun,  my 
dear  nephew ;  but  the  sun  is,  believe  me,  shining  brightly 
behind  them.  For  years  I  have  known  that  noble  nature 
as  few  others  can  know  it,  and  I  can  tell  you  that  his 
virtues  are  his  own,  but  that  if  ever  his  glory  is  for  an  in- 
stant dimmed  over,  it  is  because  his  kindness  of  heart  has 
allowed  him  to  be  swayed  by  those  who  are  about  him. 
We  hope  soon  to  see  you  back  at  Versailles,  staggering 

-78 


under  the  weight  of  your  laurels.  Meanwhile  accept  my 
love  and  every  wish  for  your  speedy  promotion,  although 
it  cannot  be  obtained  in  the  way  which  you  suggest.'  " 

"  Ah,"  cried  the  King,  his  love  shining  in  his  eyes,  "  how 
could  I  for  an  instant  doubt  her !  And  yet  I  had  been  so 
shaken  by  the  others !  Franchise  is  as  true  as  steel.  Was 
it  not  a  beautiful  letter,  Louvois  ?" 

"Madame  is  a  very  clever  woman,"  said  the  minister, 
evasively. 

"  And  such  a  reader  of  hearts !  Has  she  not  seen  my 
character  aright  ?" 

"  At  least  she  has  not  read  mine,  sire." 

There  was  a  tap  at  the  door,  and  Bontems  peeped  in. 
"The  Archbishop  has  arrived,  sire." 

"  Very  well,  Bontems.  Ask  madame  to  be  so  good  as  to 
step  this  way.  And  order  the  witnesses  to  assemble  in  the 
anteroom." 

As  the  valet  hastened  away,  Louis  turned  to  his  minister: 
"  I  wish  you  to  be  one  of  the  witnesses,  Louvois." 

"  To  what,  sire  ?" 

"To  my  marriage." 

The  minister  started.     "  What,  sire  !     Already  ?" 

"  Now,  Louvois  ;  within  five  minutes." 

"  Very  good,  sire."  The  unhappy  courtier  strove  hard  to 
assume  a  more  festive  manner ;  but  the  night  had  been  full 
of  vexation  to  him,  and  to  be  condemned  to  assist  in  mak- 
ing this  woman  the  King's  wife  was  the  most  bitter  drop 
of  all. 

"Put  these  letters  away,  Louvois.  The  last  one  has  made 
up  for  all  the  rest.  But  these  rascals  shall  smart  for  it,  all 
the  same.  By-the-way,  there  is  that  young  nephew  to  whom 
madame  wrote.  Gerard  d' Aubigny  is  his  name,  is  it  not  ?" 

"Yes,  sire." 

"  Make  him  out  a  colonel's  commission,  and  give  him  the 
next  vacancy,  Louvois." 

"  A  colonel,  sire  !     Why,  he  is  not  yet  twenty." 

"  Ay,  Louvois.  Pray,  am  I  the  chief  of  the  army,  or  are 
you?  Take  care,  Louvois!  I  have  warned  you  once  before. 
I  tell  you,  man,  that  if  I  choose  to  promote  one  of  my  jack- 
N  179 


boots  to  be  the  head  of  a  brigade,  you  shall  not  hesitate 
to  make  out  the  papers.  Now  go  into  the  anteroom,  and 
wait  with  the  other  witnesses  until  you  are  wanted." 

There  had  meanwhile  been  busy  goings-on  in  the  small 
room  where  the  red  lamp  burned  in  front  of  the  Virgin. 
Franchise  de  Maintenon  stood  in  the  centre,  a  little  flush 
of  excitement  on  her  cheeks,  and  an  unwonted  light  in  her 
placid  gray  eyes.  She  was  clad  in  a  dress  of  shining  white 
brocade,  trimmed  and  slashed  with  silver  serge,  and  fringed 
at  the  throat  and  arms  with  costly  point-lace.  Three  women, 
grouped  around  her,  rose  and  stooped  and  swayed,  putting 
a  touch  here  and  a  touch  there,  gathering  in,  looping  up, 
and  altering  until  all  was  to  their  taste. 

"  There  !"  said  the  head  dress-maker,  giving  a  final  pat  to 
a  rosette  of  gray  silk ;  "  I  think  that  will  do,  your  Majes — 
that  is  to  say,  madame." 

The  lady  smiled  at  the  adroit  slip  of  the  courtier  dress- 
maker. 

"My  tastes  lean  little  towards  dress,"  said  she,  "yet  I 
would  fain  look  as  he  would  wish  me  to  look." 

"  Ah,  it  is  easy  to  dress  madame.  Madame  has  a  figure. 
Madame  has  a  carriage.  What  costume  would  not  look  well 
with  such  a  neck  and  waist  and  arm  to  set  it  off  ?  But,  ah, 
madame,  what  are  we  to  do  when  we  have  to  make  the  figure 
as  well  as  the  dress?  There  was  the  Princess  Charlotte 
Elizabeth.  It  was  but  yesterday  that  we  cut  her  gown.  She 
was  short,  madame,  but  thick.  Oh,  it  is  incredible  how 
thick  she  was !  She  uses  more  cloth  than  madame,  though 
she  is  two  hand-breadths  shorter.  Ah,  I  am  sure  that  the 
good  God  never  meant  people  to  be  as  thick  as  that.  But 
then,  of  course,  she  is  Bavarian,  and  not  French." 

But  madame  was  paying  little  heed  to  the  gossip  of  the 
dress-maker.  Her  eyes  were  fixed  upon  the  statue  in  the 
corner,  and'  her  lips  were  moving  in  prayer — prayer  that  she 
might  be  worthy  of  this  great  destiny  which  had  come  so 
suddenly  upon,  her,  a  poor  governess ;  that  she  might  walk 
straight  among  the  pitfalls  which  surrounded  her  upon 
every  side ;  that  this  night's  work  might  bring  a  blessing 

iSo 


upon  France  and  upon  the  man  whom  she  loved.  There 
came  a  discreet  tap  at  the  door  to  break  in  upon  her  prayer. 

"  It  is  Bontems,  madame,"  said  Mademoiselle  Nanon. 
"  He  says  that  the  King  is  ready." 

"  Then  we  shall  not  keep  him  waiting.  Come,  mademoi- 
selle, and  may  God  shed  His  blessing  upon  what  we  are 
about  to  do !" 

The  little  party  assembled  in  the  King's  anteroom,  and 
started  from  there  to  the  private  chapel.  In  front  walked 
the  portly  Bishop,  clad  in  a  green  vestment,  puffed  out  with 
the  importance  of  the  function,  his  missal  in  his  hand,  and 
his  fingers  between  the  pages  at  the  service  de  matrimoniis. 
Beside  him  strode  his  almoner,  and  two  little  servitors  of 
the  court  in  crimson  cassocks  bearing  lighted  torches.  The 
King  and  Madame  de  Maintenon  walked  side  by  side,  she 
quiet  and  composed,  with  gentle  bearing  and  downcast  eyes, 
he  with  a  flush  on  his  dark  cheeks,  and  a  nervous  furtive 
look  in  his  eyes,  like  a  man  who  knows  that  he  is  in  the 
midst  of  one  of  the  great  crises  of  his  life.  Behind  them, 
in  solemn  silence,  followed  a  little  group  of  chosen  witnesses, 
the  lean,  silent  Pere  La  Chaise,  Louvois  scowling  heavily 
at  the  bride,  the  Marquis  de  Charmarante,  Bontems,  and 
Mademoiselle  Nanon. 

The  torches  shed  a  strong  yellow  light  upon  this  small 
band  as  they  advanced  slowly  through  the  corridors  and 
salons  which  led  to  the  chapel,  and  they  threw  a  garish 
glare  upon  the  painted  walls  and  ceilings,  flashing  back 
from  gold-work  and  from  mirror,  but  leaving  long  trailing 
shadows  in  the  corners.  The  King  glanced  nervously  at 
these  black  recesses,  and  at  the  portraits  of  his  ancestors 
and  relations  which  lined  the  walls.  As  he  passed  that  of 
his  late  Queen,  Maria  Theresa,  he  started  and  gasped  with 
horror. 

"  My  God  !"  he  whispered ;  "  she  frowned  and  spat  at  me!" 

Madame  laid  her  cool  hand  upon  his  wrist.  "  It  is  noth- 
ing, sire,"  she  murmured,  in  her  soothing  voice.  "  It  was 
but  the  light  flickering  over  the  picture." 

Her  words  had  their  usual  effect  upon  him.  The  startled 
look  died  away  from,  his  eyes,  and.  taking,  her  hand  in  his, 

LSI, 


he  walked  resolutely  forward.  A  minute  later  they  were 
before  the  altar,  and  the  words  were  being  read  which  should 
bind  them  forever  together.  As  they  turned  away  again,  her 
new  ring  blazing  upon  her  finger,  there  was  a  buzz  of  con- 
gratulation around  her.  The  King  only  said  nothing,  but 
he  looked  at  her,  and  she  had  no  wish  that  he  should  say 
more.  She  was  still  calm  and  pale,  but  the  blood  throbbed 
in  her  temples.  "You  are  Queen  of  France,  now,"  it 
seemed  to  be  humming—"  Queen,  Queen,  Queen  !" 

But  a  sudden  shadow  had  fallefi  across  her,  and  a  low 
voice  was  in  her  ear.  "  Remember  your  promise  to  the 
Church,"  it  whispered.  She  started,  and  turned  to  see  the 
pale  eager  face  of  the  Jesuit  beside  her. 

"  Your  hand  has  turned  cold,  Franchise,"  said  Louis. 
"Let  us  go,  dearest.  We  have  been  too  long  in  this  dismal 
church." 


CHAPTER     XX 
THE     TWO     FRANgOISES 

MADAME  DE  MONTESPAN  had  retired  to  rest,  easy  in  her 
mind,  after  receiving  the  message  from  her  brother.  She 
knew  Louis  as  few  others  knew  him,  and  she  was  well  aware 
of  that  obstinacy  in  trifles  which  was  one  of  his  character- 
istics. If  he  had  said  that  he  would  be  married  by  the 
Archbishop,  then  the  Archbishop  it  must  be  ;  to-night,  at 
least,  there  should  be  no  marriage.  To-morrow  was  a  new 
day,  and  if  it  did  not  shake  the  King's  plans,  then  indeed 
she  must  have  lost  her  wit  as  well  as  her  beauty. 

She  dressed  herself  with  care  in  the  morning,  putting  on 
her  powder,  her  little  touch  of  rouge,  her  one  patch  near  the 
dimple  of  her  cheek,  her  loose  robe  of  violet  velvet,  and 
her  casconet  of  pearls  with  all  the  solicitude  of  a  warrior 
who  is  bracing  on  his  arms  for  a  life  and  death  contest.  No 
news  had  come  to  her  of  the  great  event  of  the  previous 
night,  although  the  court  already  rang  with  it,  for  her  haugh- 
tiness and  her  bitter  tongue  had  left  her  without  a  friend  or 
intimate.  She  rose,  therefore,  in  the  best  of  spirits,  with 
her  mind  set  on  the  one  question  as  to  how  best  she  should 
gain  an  audience  with  the  King. 

She  was  still  in  her  boudoir  putting  the  last  touches  to 
her  toilet  when  her  page  announced  to  her  that  the  King 
was  waiting  in  her  salon.  Madame  de  Montespan  could 
hardly  believe  in  such  good-fortune.  She  had  racked  her 
brain  all  morning  as  to  how  she  should  win  her  way  to  him, 
and  here  he  was  waiting  for  her.  With  a  last  glance  at  the 
mirror,  she  hastened  to  meet  him. 

He  was  standing  with  his  back  turned,  looking  up  at  one 
of  Snyders's  paintings,  when  she  entered  ;  but  as  she  closed 

183 


the  door,  he  turned  and  took  two  steps  towards  her.  She 
had  run  forward  with  a  pretty  little  cry  of  joy,  her  white 
arms  out-stretched,  and  love  shining  on  her  face  ;  but  he  put 
out  his  hand,  gently  and  yet  with  decision,  with  a  gesture 
which  checked  her  approach.  Her  hands  dropped  to  her 
side,  her  lip  trembled,  and  she  stood  looking  at  him  with 
her  grief  and  her  fears  all  speaking  loudly  from  her  eyes. 
There  was  a  look  upon  his  features  which  she  had  never 
seen  before,  and  already  something  was  whispering  at  the 
back  of  her  soul  that  to-day  at  least  his  spirit  was  stronger 
than  her  own. 

"  You  are  angry  with  me  again,"  she  cried. 

He  had  come  with  every  intention  of  beginning  the  inter- 
view by  telling  her  bluntly  of  his  marriage  ;  but  now,  as  he 
looked  upon  her  beauty  and  her  love,  he  felt  that  it  would 
have  been  less  brutal  to  strike  her  down  at  his  feet.  Let 
some  one  else  tell  her,  then.  She  would  know  soon  enough. 
Besides,  there  would  be  less  chance  then  of  a  scene,  which 
was  a  thing  abhorrent  to  his  soul.  His  task  was,  in  any 
case,  quite  difficult  enough.  All  this  ran  swiftly  through 
his  mind,  and  she  as  swiftly  read  it  off  in  the  brown  eyes 
which  gazed  at  her. 

"  You  have  something  you  came  to  say,  and  now  you 
have  not  the  heart  to  say  it.  God  bless  the  kindly  heart 
which  checks  the  cruel  tongue!" 

"No,  no,  madame,"  said  Louis;  "I  would  not  be  cruel. 
I  cannot  forget  that  my  life  has  been  brightened  and  my 
court  made  brilliant  during  all  these  years  by  your  wit  and 
your  beauty.  But  times  change,  madame,  and  I  owe  a  duty 
to  the  world  which  overrides  my  own  personal  inclinations. 
For  every  reason  I  think  that  it  is  best  that  we  should  ar- 
range in  the  way  which  we  discussed  the  other  day,  and 
that  you  should  withdraw  yourself  from  the  court." 

"  Withdraw,  sire  !     For  how  long  ?" 

"  It  must  be  a  permanent  withdrawal,  madame." 

She  stood  with  clinched  hands  and  a  pale  face  staring  at 
him. 

"  I  need  not  say  that  I  shall  make  your  retirement  a 
happy  one  as  far  as  in  me  lies.  Your  allowance  shall  be 

184 


fixed  by  yourself;  a  palace  shall  be  erected  for  you  in 
whatever  part  of  France  you  may  prefer,  provided  that  it  is 
twenty  miles  from  Paris.  An  estate  also — " 

"  Oh,  sire,  how  can  you  think  that  such  things  as  these 
would  compensate  me  for  the  loss  of  your  love?"  Her 
heart  had  turned  to  lead  within  her  breast.  Had  he  spoken 
hotly  and  angrily  she  might  have  hoped  to  turn  him  as  she 
had  done  before ;  but  this  gentle  and  yet  firm  bearing  was 
new  to  him,  and  she  felt  that  all  her  arts  were  vain  against 
it.  His  coolness  enraged  her,  and  yet  she  strove  to  choke 
down  her  passion  and  to  preserve  the  humble  attitude  which 
was  least  natural  to  her  haughty  and  vehement  spirit ;  but 
soon  the  effort  became  too  much  for  her. 

"  Madame,"  said  he,  "I  have  thought  well  over  this  mat- 
ter, and  it  must  be  as  I  say.  There  is  no  other  way  at  all. 
Since  we  must  part,  the  parting  had  best  be  short  and  sharp. 
Believe  me,  it  is  no  pleasant  matter  for  me  either.  I  have 
ordered  your  brother  to  have  his  carriage  at  the  postern  at 
nine  o'clock,  for  I  thought  that  perhaps  you  would  wish  to 
retire  after  nightfall." 

"  To  hide  my  shame  from  a  laughing  court !  It  was 
thoughtful  of  you,  sire.  And  yet  perhaps  this  too  was  a 
duty,  since  we  hear  so  much  of  duties  nowadays,  for  who 
was  it  but  you—" 

"  I  know,  madame,  I  know.  I  confess  it.  I  have  wronged 
you  deeply.  Believe  me  that  every  atonement  which  is  in 
my  power  shall  be  made.  Nay,  do  not  look  so  angrily  at 
me,  I  beg.  Let  our  last  sight  of  each  other  be  one  which 
may  leave  a-  pleasant  memory  behind  it." 

"A  pleasant  memory!"  All  the  gentleness  and  humility 
had  fallen  from  her  now,  and  her  voice  had  the  hard  ring 
of  contempt  and  of  anger.  "A  pleasant  memory!  It  may 
well  be  pleasant  to  you,  who  are  released  from  the  woman 
whom  you  ruined,  who  can  turn  now  to  another  without  any 
pale  face  to  be  seen  within  the  salons  of  your  court  to  re- 
mind you  of  your  perfidy.  But  to  me,  pining  in  some  lonely 
country  house,  spurned  by  my  husband,  despised  by  my 
family,  the  scorn  and  jest  of  France,  far  from  all  which 
gave  a  charm  to  life,  far  from  the  man  for  whose  love  I 

185 


have  sacrificed  everything  —  this  will  be  a  very  pleasant 
memory  to  me,  you  may  be  sure !" 

The  King's  eyes  had  caught  the  angry  gleam  which  shot 
from  hers,  and  yet  he  strove  hard  to  set  a  curb  upon  his 
temper.  When  such  a  matter  had  to  be  discussed  between 
the  proudest  man  and  the  haughtiest  woman  in  all  France, 
one  or  the  other  must  yield  a  point.  He  felt  that  it  was  for 
him  to  do  so,  and  yet  it  did  not  come  kindly  to  his  im- 
perious nature. 

"  There  is  nothing  to  be  gained,  madame,"  said  he,  "  by 
using  words  which  are  neither  seemly  for  your  tongue  nor 
for  my  ears.  You  will  do  me  the  justice  to  confess  that 
where  I  might  command  I  am  now  entreating,  and  that  in- 
stead of  ordering  you  as  my  subject,  I  am  persuading  you 
as  my  friend." 

"  Oh,  you  show  too  much  consideration,  sire  !  Our  re- 
lations of  twenty  years  or  so  can  scarce  suffice  to  explain 
such  forbearance  from  you.  I  should  indeed  be  grateful 
that  you  have  not  set  your  archers  of  the  guard  upon  me,  or 
marched  me  from  the  palace  between  a  file  of  your  mus- 
keteers. Sire,  how  can  I  thank  you  for  this  forbearance  ?" 
She  courtesied  low,  with  her  face  set  in  a  mocking  smile. 

"Your  words  are  bitter,  madame." 

"  My  heart  is  bitter,  sire." 

"  Nay,  Frangoise,  be  reasonable,  I  implore  you.  We  have 
both  left  our  youth  behind." 

"The  allusion  to  my  years  comes  gracefully  from  your  lips." 

"  Ah,  you  distort  my  words.  Then  I  shall  say  no  more. 
You  may  not  see  me  again,  madame.  Is  there  no  question 
which  you  would  wish  to  ask  me  before  I  go  ?" 

"  Good  God  !"  she  cried  ;  "  is  this  a  man  ?  Has  it  a  heart  ? 
Are  these  the  lips  which  have  told  me  so  often  that  he 
loved  me  ?  Are  these  the  eyes  which  have  looked  so  fondly 
into  mine  ?  Can  you  then  thrust  away  a  woman  whose  life 
has  been  yours  as  you  put  away  the  St.  Germain  Palace 
when  a  more  showy  one  was  ready  for  you  ?  And  this  is 
the  end  of  all  those  vows,  those  sweet  whispers,  those  per- 
suasions, those  promises —  This  !" 

"  Nay,  madame,  this  is  painful  to  both  of  us." 
186 


"  Pain  !  Where  is  the  pain  in  your  face  ?  I  see  anger  in 
it  because  I  have  dared  to  speak  truth ;  I  see  joy  in  it  be- 
cause you  feel  that  your  vile  task  is  done.  But  where  is  the 
pain  ?  Ah,  when  I  am  gone  all  will  be  so  easy  to  you — 
will  it  not  ?  You  can  go  back  then  to  your  governess — " 

"  Madame !" 

"  Yes,  yes,  you  cannot  frighten  me  !  What  do  I  care  for 
all  that  you  can  do  ?  But  I  know  all.  Do  not  think  that  I 
am  blind.  And  so  you  would  even  have  married  her  !  You 
the  descendant  of  St.  Louis,  and  she  the  Scarron  widow, 
the  poor  drudge  whom  in  charity  I  took  into  my  household  ! 
Ah,  how  your  courtiers  will  smile  !  how  the  little  poets  will 
scribble !  how  the  wits  will  whisper  !  You  do  not  hear  of 
these  things,  of  course,  but  they  are  a  little  painful  for  your 
friends." 

"  My  patience  can  bear  no  more,"  cried  the  King,  furi- 
ously. "  I  leave  you,  madame,  and  forever." 

But  her  fury  had  swept  all  fear  and  discretion  from  her 
mind.  She  stepped  between  the  door  and  him,  her  face 
flushed,  her  eyes  blazing,  her  face  thrust  a  little  forward, 
one  small  white  satin  slipper  tapping  upon  the  carpet. 

"  You  are  in  haste,  sire  ?  She  is  waiting  for  you,  doubt- 
less." 

"  Let  me  past,  madame." 

"  But  it  was  a  disappointment  last  night,  was  it  not,  my 
poor  sire  ?  Ah,  and  for  the  governess,  what  a  blow  !  Great 
Heaven,  what  a  blow  !  No  Archbishop  !  No  marriage ! 
All  the  pretty  plan  gone  wrong  !  Was  it  not  cruel  ?" 

Louis  gazed  at  the  beautiful  furious  face  in  bewilderment, 
and  it  flashed  across  his  mind  that  perhaps  her  grief  had 
turned -her  brain.  What  else  could  be  the  meaning  of  this 
wild  talk  of  the  Archbishop  and  the  disappointment?  It 
would  be  unworthy  of  him  to  speak  harshly  to  one  who  was 
so  afflicted.  He  must  soothe  her,  and,  above  all,  he  must 
get  away  from  her. 

"  You  have  had  the  keeping  of  a  good  many  of  my  family 
jewels,"  said  he.  "  I  beg  that  you  will  still  retain  them  as  a 
small  sign  of  my  regard." 

He  had  hoped  to  please  her  and  to  calm  her,  but  in  an 

187 


instant  she  was  over  at  her  treasure -cupboard  hurling 
double  handfuls  of  precious  stones  down  at  his  feet.  They 
clinked  and  rattled,  the  little  pellets  of  red  and  yellow  and 
green,  rolling,  glinting  over  the  floor  and  rapping  up  against 
the  oak  panels  at  the  base  of  the  walls. 

"  They  will  do  for  the  governess  if  the  Archbishop  comes 
at  last,"  she  cried. 

He  was  more  convinced  than  ever  that  she  had  lost  her 
wits.  A  thought  struck  him  by  which  he  might  appeal  to 
all  that  was  softer  and  more  gentle  in  her  nature.  He 
stepped  swiftly  to  the  door,  pushed  it  half  open,  and  gave  a 
whispered  order.  A  youth  with  long  golden  hair  waving 
down  over  his  black  velvet  doublet  entered  the  room.  It 
was  her  youngest  son,  the  Count  of  Toulouse. 

"  I  thought  that  you  would  wish  to  bid  him  farewell,'7 
said  Louis. 

She  stood  staring  as  though  unable  to  realize  the  signifi- 
cance of  his  words.  Then  it  was  borne  suddenly  in  upon 
her  that  her  children  as  well  as  her  lover  were  to  be  taken 
from  her,  that  this  other  woman  should  see  them  and  speak 
with  them  and  win  their  love  while  she  was  far  away.  All 
that  was  evil  and  bitter  in  the  woman  flushed  suddenly  up 
in  her,  until  for  the  instant  she  was  what  the  King  had 
thought  her.  If  her  son  was  not  for  her,  then  he  should 
be  for  none.  A  jewelled  knife  lay  among  her  treasures, 
ready  to  her  hand.  She  caught  it  up  and  rushed  at  the 
cowering  lad.  Louis  screamed  and  ran  forward  to  stop 
her ;  but  another  had  been  swifter  than  he.  A  woman  had 
darted  through  the  open  door,  and  had  caught  the -upraised 
wrist.  There  was  a  moment's  struggle,  two  queenly  figures 
swayed  and  strained,  and  the  knife  dropped  between  their 
feet.  The  frightened  Louis  caught  it  up,  and  seizing  his 
little  son  by  the  wrist,  he  rushed  from  the  apartment. 
Franchise  de  Montespan  staggered  back  against  the  otto- 
man to  find  herself  confronted  by  the  steady  eyes  and  set 
face  of  that  other  Franchise,  the  woman  whose  presence 
fell  like  a  shadow  at  every  turn  of  her  life. 

"  I  have  saved  you,  madame,  from  doing  that  which  you 
would  have  been  the  first  to  bewail." 

188 


El  /vl-r^i*1 


A   WOMAN   HAD   DARTED   THROUGH   THE   OPEN   DOOR 


"  Saved  me  !    It  is  you  who  have  driven  me  to  this  !" 

The  fallen  favorite  leaned  against  the  high  back  of  the 
ottoman,  her  hands  resting  behind  her  upon  the  curve 
of  the  velvet.  Her  lids  were  half  closed  on  her  flash- 
ing eyes,  and  her  lips  just  parted  to  show  a  gleam  of  her 
white  teeth.  Here  was  the  true  Frangoise  de  Montespan, 
a  feline  creature  crouching  for  a  spring,  very  far  from  that 
humble  and  soft-spoken  Frangoise  who  had  won  the  King 
back  by  her  gentle  words.  Madame  de  Maintenon's  hand 
had  been  cut  in  the  struggle,  and  the  blood  was  dripping 
down  from  the  end  of  her  fingers,  but  neither  woman  had 
time  to  spare  a  thought  upon  that.  Her  firm  gray  eyes 
were  fixed  upon  her  former  rival  as  one  fixes  them  upon 
some  weak  and  treacherous  creature  who  may  be  dominat- 
ed by  a  stronger  will. 

"  Yes,  it  is  you  who  have  driven  me  to  this — you,  whom 
I  picked  up  when  you  were  hard  pressed  for  a  crust  of 
bread  or  a  cup  of  sour  wine.  What  had  you  ?  You  had 
nothing  —  nothing  except  a  name  which  was  a  laughing- 
stock. And  what  did  I  give  you  ?  I  gave  you  everything. 
You  know  that  I  gave  you  everything.  Money,  position, 
the  entrance  to  the  court.  You  had  them  all  from  me. 
And  now  you  mock  me  !" 

"  Madame,  I  do  not  mock  you.  I  pity  you  from  the  bot- 
tom of  my  heart." 

"  Pity  ?  Ha  !  ha  !  A  Mortemart  is  pitied  by  the  widow 
Scarron !  Your  pity  may  go  where  your  gratitude  is,  and 
where  your  character  is.  We  shall  be  troubled  with  it  no 
longer  then." 

"  Your  words  do  not  pain  me." 

"  I  can  believe  that  you  are  not  sensitive." 

"  Not  when  my  conscience  is  at  ease." 

"  Ah  !  it  has  not  troubled  you,  then  ?" 

"  Not  upon  this  point,  madame." 

"  My  God  !  How  terrible  must  those  other  points  have 
been  S" 

"  I  have  never  had  an  evil  thought  towards  you." 

"  None  towards  me  ?     Oh,  woman,  woman  !" 

"  What  have  I  done,  then  ?  The  King  came  to  my  room 
189 


to  see  the  children  taught.  He  stayed.  He  talked.  He 
asked  my  opinion  on  this  and  that.  Could  I  be  silent  ?  or 
could  I  say  other  than  what  I  thought  ?" 

"  You  turned  him  against  me  !" 

"  I  should  be  proud  indeed  if  I  thought  that  I  had  turned 
him  to  virtue." 

"The  word  comes  well  from  your  lips." 

"  I  would  that  I  heard  it  upon  yours." 

"  And  so,  by  your  own  confession,  you  stole  the  King's 
love  from  me,  most  virtuous  of  widows  !" 

"  I  had  all  gratitude  and  kindly  thought  for  you.  You 
have,  as  you  have  so  often  reminded  me,  been  my  bene- 
factress. It  was  not  necessary  for  you  to  say  it,  for  I  had 
never  for  an  instant  forgotten  it.  Yet  if  the  King  has 
asked  me  what  I  thought,  I  will  not  deny  to  you  that  I 
have  said  that  sin  is  sin,  and  that  he  would  be  a  worthier 
man  if  he  shook  off  the  guilty  bonds  which  held  him." 

"  Or  exchanged  them  for  others." 

"  For  those  of  duty." 

"  Pah  !  Your  hypocrisy  sickens  me  !  If  you  pretend  to 
be  a  nun,  why  are  you  not  where  the  nuns  are  ?  You  would 
have  the  best  of  two  worlds — would  you  not  ?— have  all  that 
the  court  can  give,  and  yet  ape  the  manners  of  the  cloister. 
But  you  need  not  do  it  with  me !  I  know  you  as  your  in- 
most heart  knows  you.  I  was  honest,  and  what  I  did,  I 
did  before  the  world.  You,  behind  your  priests  and  your 
directors  and  your  prie-clieus  and  your  missals  —  do  you 
think  that  you  deceive  me,  as  you  deceive  others  ?" 

Her  antagonist's  gray  eyes  sparkled  for  the  first  time, 
and  she  took  a  quick  step  forward,  with  one  white  hand 
half  lifted  in  rebuke* 

"  You  may  speak  as  you  will  of  me,"  said  she.  "  To 
me  it  is  no  more  than  the  foolish  paroquet  that  chatters 
in  your  anteroom.  But  do  not  touch  upon  things  which 
are  sacred.  Ah,  if  you  would  but  raise  your  own  thoughts 
to  such  things — if  you  would  but  turn  them  inward,  and 
see,  before  it  is  too  late,  how  vile  and  foul  is  this  life  which 
you  have  led  !  What  might  you  not  have  done  ?  His  soul 
was  in  your  hands  like  clay  for  the  potter.  If  you  had 

190 


raised  him  up,  if  you  had  led  him  on  the  higher  path,  if  you 
had  brought  out  all  that  was  noble  and  good  within  him, 
how  your  name  would  have  been  loved  and  blessed,  from 
the  chateau  to  the  cottage !  But  no  ;  you  dragged  him 
down  ;  you  wasted  his  youth ;  you  drew  him  from  his  wife ; 
you  marred  his  manhood.  A  crime  in  one  so  high  begets 
a  thousand  others  in  those  who  look  to  him  for  an  exam- 
ple ;  and  all,  all  are  upon  your  soul.  Take  heed,  madame, 
for  God's  sake  take  heed  ere  it  be  too  late !  For  all  your 
beauty,  there  can  be  for  you,  as  for  me,  a  few  short  years  of 
life.  Then,  when  that  brown  hair  is  white,  when  that  white 
cheek  is  sunken,  when  that  bright  eye  is  dimmed — ah,  then 
God  pity  the  sin-stained  soul  of  Frangoise  de  Montespan !" 

Her  rival  had  sunk  her  head  for  the  moment  before  the 
solemn  words  and  the  beautiful  eyes.  For  an  instant  she 
stood  silent,  cowed  for  the  first  time  in  all  her  life  ;  but 
then  the  mocking,  defiant  spirit  came  back  to  her,  and  she 
glanced  up  with  a  curling  lip. 

"  I  am  already  provided  with  a  spiritual  director,  thank 
you,"  said  she.  "  Oh,  madame,  you  must  not  think  to  throw 
dust  in  my  eyes  !  I  know  you,  and  know  you  well !" 

"  On  the  contrary,  you  seem  to  know  less  than  I  had  ex- 
pected. If  you  know  me  so  well,  pray  what  am  I  ?" 

All  her  rival's  bitterness  and  hatred  rang  in  the  tones  of 
her  answer.  "You  are,"  said  she,  "the  governess  of  my 
children,  and  the  secret  mistress  of  the  King." 

"  You  are  mistaken,"  answered  Madame  de  Maintenon, 
serenely.  "  I  am  the  governess  of  your  children,  and  I  am 
the  King's  wife." 


CHAPTER    XXI 
THE    MAN    IN    THE    CALECHE 

OFTEN  had  de  Montespan  feigned  a  faint  in  the  days 
when  she  wished  to  disarm  the  anger  of  the  King.  So  she 
had  drawn  his  arms  round  her,  and  won  the  pity  which  is 
the  twin  sister  of  love.  But  now  she  knew  what  it  was  to 
have  the  senses  struck  out  of  her  by  a  word.  She  could 
not  doubt  the  truth  of  what  she  heard.  There  was  that  in 
her  rival's  face,  in  her  steady  eye,  in  her  quiet  voice,  which 
carried  absolute  conviction  with  it.  She  stood  stunned  for 
an  instant,  panting,  her  out-stretched  hands  feeling  at  the 
air,  her  defiant  eyes  dulling  and  glazing.  Then,  with  a 
short  sharp  cry,  the  wail  of  one  who  has  fought  hard  and 
yet  knows  that  she  can  fight  no  more,  her  proud  head 
drooped,  and  she  fell  forward  senseless  at  the  feet  of -her 
rival.  * 

Madame  de  Maintenon  stooped  and  raised  her  up  in  her 
strong  white  arms.  There  was  true  grief  and  pity  in  her 
eyes  as  she  looked  down  at  the  snow-pale  face  which  lay 
against  her  bosom,  all  the  bitterness  and  pride  gone  out  of 
it,  and  nothing  left  save  the  tear  which  sparkled  under  the 
dark  lashes,  and  the  petulant  droop  of  the  lip,  like  that 
of  a  child  which  has  wept  itself  to  sleep.  She  laid  her  on 
the  ottoman  and  placed  a  silken  cushion  under  her  head. 
Then  she  gathered  together  and  put  back  into  the  open 
cupboard  all  the  jewels  which  were  scattered  about  the 
carpet.  Having  locked  it,  and  placed  the  key  on  a  table 
where  its  owner's  eye  would  readily  fall  upon  it,  she  struck 
a  gong,  which  summoned  the  little  black  page. 

"  Your  mistress  is  indisposed,"  said  she.  "  Go  and 
bring  her  maids  to  her."  And  so,  having  done  all  that  lay 

192 


with  her  to  do,  she  turned  away  from  the  great  silent  room, 
where,  amid  the  velvet  and  the  gilding,  her  beautiful  rival 
lay  like  a  crushed  flower,  helpless  and  hopeless. 

Helpless  enough,  for  what  could  she  do  ?  and  hopeless 
too,  for  how  could  fortune  aid  her  ?  The  instant  that  her 
senses  had  come  back  to  her  she  had  sent  away  her 
waiting  women,  and  lay  with  clasped  hands  and  a  drawn 
face  planning  out  her  own  weary  future.  She  must  go ; 
that  was  certain.  Not  merely  because  it  was  the  King's 
order,  but  because  only  misery  and  mockery  remained  for 
her  now  in  the  palace  where  she  had  reigned  supreme. 
It  was  true  that  she  had  held  her  position  against  the 
Queen  before,  but  all  her  hatred  could  not  blind  her  to  the 
fact  that  her  rival  was  a  very  different  woman  to  poor  meek 
little  Maria  Theresa.  No  ;  her  spirit  was  broken  at  last. 
She  must  accept  defeat,  and  she  must  go. 

She  rose  from  the  couch,  feeling  that  she  had  aged  ten 
years  in  an  hour.  There  was  much  to  be  done,  and  little 
time  in  which  to  do  it.  She  had  cast  down  her  jewels  when 
the  King  had  spoken  as  though  they  would  atone  for  the 
loss  of  his  love ;  but  now  that  the  love  was  gone,  there  was 
no  reason  why  the  jewels  should  be  lost  too.  If  she  had 
ceased  to  be  the  most  powerful,  she  might  still  be  the 
richest  woman  in  France.  There  was  her  pension,  of 
course.  That  would  be  a  munificent  one,  for  Louis  was 
always  generous.  And  then  there  was  all  the  spoil  which 
she  had  collected  during  these  long  years,  the  jewels,  the 
pearls,  the  gold,  the  vases,  the  pictures,  the  crucifixes,  the 
watches,  the  trinkets  —  together  they  represented  many 
millions  of  livres.  With  her  own  hands  she  packed  away 
the  more  precious  and  portable  of  them,  while  she  arranged 
with  her  brother  for  the  safe-keeping  of  the  others.  All 
day  she  was  at  work  in  a  mood  of  feverish  energy,  doing 
anything  and  everything  which  might  distract  her  thoughts 
from  her  own  defeat  and  her  rival's  victory.  By  evening 
all  was  ready,  and  she  had  arranged  that  her  property 
should  be  sent  after  her  to  Petit  Bourg,  to  which  castle  she 
intended  to  retire. 

It  wanted  half  an  hour  of  the  time  fixed  for  her  de- 
o  193 


parture,  when  a  young  cavalier,  whose  face  was  strange  to 
her,  was  ushered  into  her  room. 

He  came  with  a  message  from  her  brother. 

"Monsieur  de  Vivonne  regrets,  madame,  that  the  rumor 
of  your  departure  has  got  abroad  among  the  court." 

"What  do  I  care  for  that,  monsieur?"  she  retorted,  with 
all  her  old  spirit. 

"  He  says,  madame,  that  the  courtiers  may  assemble  at 
the  west  gate  to  see  you  go  ;  that  Madame  de  Neuilly  will 
be  there,  and  the  Duchesse  de  Chambord,  and  Mademoiselle 
de  Rohan,  and  — 

The  lady  shrunk  with  horror  at  the  thought  of  such  an 
ordeal.  To  drive  away  from  the  palace,  where  she  had 
been  more  than  queen,  under  the  scornful  eyes  and  bitter 
gibes  of  so  many  personal  enemies  !  After  all  the  humilia- 
tions of  the  day,  that  would  be  the  crowning  cup  of  sorrow. 
Her  nerve  was  broken.  She  could  not  face  it. 

"  Tell  my  brother,  monsieur,  that  I  should  be  much 
obliged  if  he  would  make  fresh  arrangements,  by  which 
my  departure  might  be  private." 

"  He  bade  me  say  that  he  had  done  so,  madame." 

"  Ah  !  at  what  hour,  then  ?" 
-  "  Now.     As  soon  as  possible." 

"  I  am  ready.     At  the  west  gate,  then  ?" 

"No;  at  the  east.     The  carriage  waits." 

"  And  where  is  my  brother  ?" 

"We  are  to  pick  him  up  at  the  park  gate." 

"And  why  that?" 

"  Because  he  is  watched ;  and  were  he  seen  beside  the 
carriage,  all  would  be  known." 

"  Very  good.  Then,  monsieur,  if  you  will  take  my  cloak 
and  this  casket  we  may  start  at  once  " 

They  made  their  way  by  a  circuitous  route  through  the 
less-used  corridors,  she  hurrying  on  like  a  guilty  creature,  a 
hood  drawn  over  her  face,  and  her  heart  in  a  flutter  at 
every  stray  foot-fall.  But  fortune  stood  her  friend.  She 
met  no  one,  and  soon  found  herself  at  the  eastern  postern- 
gate.  A  couple  of  phlegmatic  Swiss  guardsmen  leaned 
upon  their  muskets  upon  either  side,  and  the  lamp  above 

194 


shone  upon  the  carriage  which  awaited  her.  The  door 
was  open,  and  a  tall  cavalier  swathed  in  a  black  cloak 
handed  her  into  it.  He  then  took  the  seat  opposite  to  her, 
slammed  the  door,  and  the  caleche  rattled  away  down  the 
main  drive. 

It  had  not  surprised  her  that  this  man  should  join  her 
inside  the  coach,  for  it  was  usual  to  have  a  guard  there, 
and  he  was  doubtless  taking  the  place  which  her  brother 
would  afterwards  occupy.  That  was  all  natural  enough. 
But  when  ten  minutes  passed  by,  and  he  had  neither 
moved  nor  spoken,  she  peered  at  him  through  the  gloom 
with  some  curiosity.  In  the  glance  which  she  had  of  him, 
as  he  handed  her  in,  she  had  seen  that  he  was  dressed  like 
a  gentleman,  and  there  was  that  in  his  bow  and  wave  as  he 
did  it  which  told  her  experienced  senses  that  he  was  a  man 
of  courtly  manners.  But  courtiers,  as  she  had  known  them, 
were  gallant  and  garrulous,  and  this  man  was  so  very  quiet 
and  still.  Again  she  strained  her  eyes  through  the  gloom. 
His  hat  was  pulled  down  and  his  cloak  was  still  drawn 
across  his  mouth,  but  from  out  of  the  shadow  she  seemed 
to  get  a  glimpse  of  two  eyes  which  peered  at  her  even  as 
she  did  at  him. 

At  last  the  silence  impressed  her  with  a  vague  uneasiness. 
It  was  time  to  bring  it  to  an  end. 

"  Surely,  monsieur,  we  have  passed  the  park  gate  where 
we  were  to  pick  up  my  brother." 

Her  companion  neither  answered  nor  moved.  She 
thought  that  perhaps  the  rumble  of  the  heavy  caleche  had 
drowned  her  voice. 

"  I  say,  monsieur,"  she  repeated,  leaning  forward,  "  that 
we  have  passed  the  place  where  we  were  to  meet  Monsieur 
de  Vivonne." 

He  took  no  notice. 

"  Monsieur,"  she  cried,  "  I  again  remark  that  we  have 
passed  the  gates." 

There  was  no  answer. 

A  thrill  ran  through  her  nerves.  Who  or  what  could  he 
be,  this  silent  man  ?  Then  suddenly  it  struck  her  that  he 
might  be  dumb. 

195 


"Perhaps  monsieur  is  afflicted,"  she  said.  "Perhaps 
monsieur  cannot  speak.  If  that  be  the  cause  of  your  si- 
lence, will  you  raise  your  hand,  and  I  shall  understand." 
He  sat  rigid  and  silent. 

Then  a  sudden  mad  fear  came  upon  her,  shut  up  in  the 
dark  with  this  dreadful  voiceless  thing.  She  screamed  in 
her  terror,  and  strove  to  pull  down  the  window  and  open 
the  door.  But  a  grip  of  steel  closed  suddenly  round  her 
wrist  and  forced  her  back  into  her  seat.  And  yet  the  man's 
body  had  not  moved,  and  there  was  no  sound  save  the 
lurching  and  rasping  of  the  carriage  and  the  clatter  of  the 
flying  horses.  They  were  already  out  on  the  country  roads 
far  beyond  Versailles.  It  was  darker  than  before,  heavy 
clouds  had  banked  over  the  heavens,  and  the  rumbling  of 
thunder  was  heard  low  down  on  the  horizon. 

The  lady  lay  back  panting  upon  the  leather  cushions  of 
the  carriage.  She  was  a  brave  woman,  and  yet  this  sudden 
strange  horror  coming  upon  her  at  the  moment  when  she 
was  weakest  had  shaken  her  to  the  soul.  She  crouched  in 
the  corner,  staring  across  with  eyes  which  were  dilated  with 
terror  at  the  figure  on  the  other  side.  If  he  would  but  say 
something.  Any  revelation,  any  menace,  was  better  than 
this  silence.  It  was  so  dark  now  that  she  could  hardly  see 
his  vague  outline,  and  every  instant,  as  the  storm  gathered, 
it  became  still  darker.  The  wind  was  blowing  in  little 
short  angry  puffs,  and  still  there  was  that  far-off  rattle  and 
rumble.  Again  the  strain  of  the  silence  was  unbearable. 
She  must  break  it  at  any  cost. 

"  Sir,"  said  she,  "  there  is  some  mistake  here.  I  do  not 
know  by  what  right  you  prevent  me  from  pulling  down  the 
window  and  giving  my  directions  to  the  coachman." 

He  said  nothing. 

"  I  repeat,  sir,  that  there  is  some  mistake.  This  is  the 
carriage  of  my  brother,  Monsieur  de  Vivonne,  and  he  is 
not  a  man  who  will  allow  his  sister  to  be  treated  uncour- 
teously." 

A  few  heavy  drops  of  rain  splashed  against  one  window. 
The  clouds  were  lower  and  denser.  She  had  quite  lost 
sight  of  that  motionless  figure,  but  it  was  all  the  more  terri- 

196 


ble  to  her  now  that  it  was  unseen.  She  screamed  with 
sheer  terror,  but  her  scream  availed  no  more  than  her 
words. 

"  Sir,"  she  cried,  clutching  forward  with  her  hands  and 
grasping  his  sleeve,  "you  frighten  me.  You  terrify  me. 
I  have  never  harmed  you.  Why  should  you  wish  to  hurt 
an  unfortunate  woman  ?  Oh,  speak  to  me ;  for  God's  sake, 
speak !" 

Still  the  patter  of  rain  upon  the  window,  and  no  other 
sound  save  her  own  sharp  breathing. 

"  Perhaps  you  do  not  know  who  I  am  !"  she  continued, 
endeavoring  to  assume  her  usual  tone  of  command,  and 
talking  now  to  an  absolute  and  impenetrable  darkness. 
"  You  may  learn  when  it  is  too  late  that  you  have  chosen 
the  wrong  person  for  this  pleasantry.  I  am  the  Marquise 
de  Montespan,  and  I  am  not  one  who  forgets  a  slight.  If 
you  know  anything  of  the  court,  you  must  know  that  my 
word  has  some  weight  with  the  King.  You  may  carry  me 
away  in  this  carriage,  but  I  am  not  a  person  who  can  dis- 
appear without  speedy  inquiry,  and  speedy  vengeance  if  I 
have  been  wronged.  If  you  would —  Oh,  Jesus !  Have 
mercy !" 

A  livid  flash  of  lightning  had  burst  from  the  heart  of  the 
cloud,  and,  for  an  instant,  the  whole  country-side  and  the 
interior  of  the  caleche  were  as  light  as  day.  The  man's 
face  was  within  a  hand -breadth  of  her  own,  his  mouth 
wide  open,  his  eyes  mere  shining  slits,  convulsed  with 
silent  merriment.  Every  detail  flashed  out  clear  in  that 
vivid  light — his  red  quivering  tongue,  the  lighter  pink  be- 
neath it,  the  broad  white  teeth,  the  short  brown  beard  cut 
into  a  peak  and  bristling  forward. 

But  it  was  not  the  sudden  flash,  it  was  not  the  laughing, 
cruel  face,  which  shot  an  ice-cold  shudder  through  Fran- 
^oise  de  Montespan.  It  was  that,  of  all  men  upon  earth, 
this  was  he  whom  she  most  dreaded,  and  whom  she  had 
least  thought  to  see. 

"  Maurice  !"  she  screamed.     "  Maurice  !  it  is  you  !" 

"  Yes,  little  wifie,  it  is  I.  We  are  restored  to  each  other's 
arms,  you  see,  after  this  interval." 


"  Oh,  Maurice,  how  you  have  frightened  me  !  How  could 
you  be  so  cruel  ?  Why  would  you  not  speak  to  me  ?" 

"  Because  it  was  so  sweet  to  sit  in  silence  and  to  think 
that  I  really  had  you  to  myself  after  all  these  years,  with 
none  to  come  between.  Ah,  little  wifie,  I  have  often  longed 
for  this  hour." 

"I  have  wronged  you,  Maurice;  I  have  wronged  you! 
Forgive  me !" 

"We  do  not  forgive  in  our  family,  my  darling  Frangoise. 
Is  it  not  like  old  days  to  find  ourselves  driving  together  ? 
And  in  this  carriage,  too.  It  is  the  very  one  which  bore 
us  back  from  the  cathedral  where  you  made  your  vows  so 
prettily.  I  sat  as  I  sit  now,  and  you  sat  there,  and  I  took 
your  hand  like  this,  and  I  pressed  it,  and — 

"  Oh,  villain,  you  have  twisted  my  wrist !  You  have 
broken  my  arm  !" 

"  Oh,  surely  not,  my  little  wifie  !  And  then  you  remem- 
ber that,  as  you  told  me  how  truly  you  would  love  me,  I 
leaned  forward  to  your  lips,  and — " 

"  Oh,  help  !  Brute,  you  have  cut  my  mouth !  You  have 
struck  me  with  your  ring." 

"  Struck  you !  Now  who  would  have  thought  that 
spring  day  when  we  planned  out  our  futures,  that  this  also 
was  in  the  future  waiting  for  me  and  you  ?  And  this  !  and 
this !" 

He  struck  savagely  at  her  face  in  the  darkness.  She 
threw  herself  down,  her  head  pressed  against  the  cushions. 
With  the  strength  and  fury  of  a  maniac  he  showered  his 
blows  above  her,  thudding  upon  the  leather  or  crashing 
upon  the  wood-work,  heedless  of  his  own  splintered  hands. 

"  So  I  have  silenced  you,"  said  he  at  last.  "  I  have 
stopped  your  words  with  my  kisses  before  now.  But  the 
world  goes  on,  Franchise,  and  times  change,  and  women 
grow  false,  and  men  grow  stern." 

"  You  may  kill  me  if  you  will,"  she  moaned. 

"  I  will,"  said  he,  simply. 

Still  the  carriage  flew  along,  jolting  and  staggering  in  the 
deeply  rutted  country  roads.  The  storm  had  passed,  but 
the  growl  of  the  thunder  and  the  far-off  glint  of  a  lightning- 

198 


'  '  MAURICE  !'    SHE  SCREAMED.       '  MAURICE  !    IT  IS  YOU  !'  " 

flash  were  to  be  heard  and  seen  on  the  other  side  of  the 
heavens.  The  moon  shone  out  with  its  clear  cold  light, 
silvering  the  broad,  bedgeless,  poplar  -  fringed  plains,  and 
shining  through  the  window  of  the  carriage  upon  the 
crouching  figure  and  her  terrible  companion.  He  leaned 
back  now,  his  arms  folded  upon  his  chest,  his  eyes  gloating 
upon  the  abject  misery  of  the  woman  who  had  wronged 
him. 

"  Where  are  you  taking  me  ?"  she  asked  at  last. 

"  To  Portillac,  my  little  wifie." 

"  And  why  there?     What  would  you  do  to  me  ?" 

"I    would  silence    that  little  lying   tongue  forever.     It 
shall  deceive  no  more  men." 

*•  You  would  murder  me  ?" 

199 


"  If  you  call  it  that." 

"  You  have  a  stone  for  a  heart." 

"  It  is  true.     My  other  was  given  to  a  woman." 

"  Oh,  my  sins  are  indeed  punished." 

"  Rest  assured  that  they  will  be." 

"  Can  I  do  nothing  to  atone  ?" 

"  I  will  see  that  you  atone." 

"  You  have  a  sword  by  your  side,  Maurice.  Why  do  you 
not  kill  me,  then,  if  you  are  so  bitter  against  me  ?  Why  do 
you  not  pass  it  through  my  heart?" 

"  Rest  assured  that  I  would  have  done  so  had  I  not  an 
excellent  reason." 

"  Why,  then  ? ' 

"I  will  tell  you.  At  Portillac  I  have  the  right  of  the 
high  justice,  the  middle,  and  the  low.  I  am  seigneur  there, 
and  can  try,  condemn,  and  execute.  It  is  my  lawful  privi- 
lege. This  pitiful  King  will  not  even  know  how  to  avenge 
you,  for  the  right  is  mine,  and  he  cannot  gainsay  it  without 
making  an  enemy  of  every  seigneur  in  France." 

He  opened  his  mouth  again  and  laughed  at  his  own  de- 
vice, while  she,  shivering  in  every  limb,  turned  away  from 
his  cruel  face  and  glowing  eyes,  and  buried  her  face  in  her 
hands.  Once  more  she  prayed  God  to  forgive  her  for 'her 
poor  sinful  life.  So  they  whirled  through  the  night  behind 
the  clattering  horses,  the  husband  and  the  wife,  saying 
nothing,  but  with  hatred  and  fear  raging  in  their  hearts, 
until  a  brazier  fire  shone  down  upon  them  from  the  angle 
of  a  keep,  and  the  shadow  of  the  huge  pile  loomed  vaguely 
up  in  front  of  them  in  the  darkness.  It  was  the  Castle  of  * 
Portillac. 


CHAPTER  XXII 
THE  SCAFFOLD    OF    PORTILLAC 

AND  thus  it  was  that  Amory  de  Catinat  and  Amos  Green 
saw  from  their  dungeon  window  the  midnight  carriage  which 
discharged  its  prisoner  before  their  eyes.  Hence,  too,  came 
that  ominous  planking  and  that  strange  procession  in  the 
early  morning.  And  thus  it  also  happened  that  they  found 
themselves  looking  down  on  Frangoise  de  Montespan  as  she 
was  led  to  her  death,  and  that  they  heard  that  last  piteous 
cry  for  aid  at  the  instant  when  the  heavy  hand  of  the  ruf- 
fian with  the  axe  fell  upon  her  shoulder,  and  she  was  forced 
down  upon  her  knees  beside  the  block.  She  shrank  scream- 
ing from  the  dreadful  red-stained,  greasy  billet  of  wood,  but 
the  butcher  heaved  up  his  weapon,  and  the  seigneur  had 
taken  a  step  forward  with  hand  out-stretched  to  seize  the 
long  auburn  hair  and  to  drag  the  dainty  head  down  with  it, 
when  suddenly  he  was  struck  motionless  with  astonish- 
ment, and  stood  with  his  foot  advanced  and  his  hand  still 
out,  his  mouth  half  open,  and  his  eyes  fixed  in  front  of  him. 

And,  indeed,  what  he  had  seen  was  enough  to  fill  any 
man  with  amazement.  Out  of  the  small  square  window  which 
faced  him  a  man  had  suddenly  shot  head-foremost,  pitching 
on  to  his  out-stretched  hands  and  then  bounding  to  his  feet. 
Within  a  foot  qf  his  heels  came  the  head  of  a  second  one,  who 
fell  more  heavily  than  the  first,  and  yet  recovered  himself  as 
quickly.  The  one  wore  the  blue  coat  and  silver  facings  of 
the  King's  guard ;  the  second  had  the  dark  coat  and  clean- 
shaven face  of  a  man  of  peace;  but  each  carried  a  short 
rusty  iron  bar  in  his  hand.  Not  a  word  did  either  of  them 
say,  but  the  soldier  took  two  quick  steps  forward  and  struck 
at  the  headsman  while  he  was  still  poising  himself  for  a 

201 


blow  at  the  victim.  There  waj  a  thud,  with  a  crackle  like 
a  breaking  egg,  and  the  bar  flew  into  pieces.  The  heads- 
man gave  a  dreadful  cry,  dropped  his  axe,  clapped  his  two 
hands  to  his  head,  and  running  zigzag  across  the  scaffold, 
fell  over,  a  dead  man,  into  the  court-yard  beneath. 

Quick  as  a  flash  de  Catinat  had  caught  up  the  axe,  and 
faced  de  Montespan  with  the  heavy  weapon  slung  over  his 
shoulder  and  a  challenge  in  his  eyes. 

"  Now  !"  said  he. 

The  seigneur  had  for  the  instant  been  too  astounded  to 
speak.  Now  he  understood  at  least  that  these  strangers 
had  come  between  him  and  his  prey. 

"  Seize  these  men  !"  he  shrieked,  turning  to  his  followers. 

"  One  moment !"  cried  de  Catinat,  with  a  voice  and  man- 
ner which  commanded  attention.  "  You  see  by  my  coat 
what  I  am.  I  am  the  body- servant  of  the  King.  Who 
touches  me  touches  him.  Have  a  care  to  yourselves.  It 
is  a  dangerous  game  !"• 

"  On,  you  cowards  !"  roared  de  Montespan. 

But  the  men-at-arms  hesitated,  for  the  fear  of  the  King 
was  as  a  great  shadow  which  hung  over  all  France.  De 
Catinat  saw  their  indecision,  and  he  followed  up  his  advan- 
tage. 

"  This  woman,"  he  cried,  "  is  the  King's  own-  favorite,  and 
if  any  harm  come  to  a  lock  of  her  hair,  I  tell  you  that  there 
is  not  a  living  soul  within  this  portalice  who  will  not  die  a 
death  of  torture.  Fools,  will  you  gasp  out  your  lives  upon 
the  rack,  or  writhe  in  boiling  oil,  at  the  bidding  of  this  mad- 
man ?" 

"  Who  are  these  men,  Marceau?"  cried  the  seigneur,  furi- 
ously. 

"  They  are  prisoners,  your  Excellency." 

"  Prisoners  !     Whose  prisoners  ?'' 

"Yours,  your  Excellency." 

"  Who  ordered  you  to  detain  them?" 

''You  did.     The  escort  brought  your  signet-ring." 

"I  never  saw  the  men.  There  is  deviltry  in  this.  But 
they  shall  not  beard  me  in  my  own  castle,  nor  stand  between 
me  and  my  own  wife.  No,  par  dieu  !  they  shall  not  and 

202 


live  !  You  men,  Marceau,  Etienne,  Gilbert,  Jean,  Pierre,  all 
you  who  have  eaten  my  bread,  on  to  them,  I  say !" 

He  glanced  round  with  furious  eyes,  but  they  fell  only 
upon  hung  heads  and  averted  faces.  With  a  hideous  curse 
he  flashed  out  his  sword  and  rushed  at  his  wife,  who  still 
knelt  half  insensible  beside  the  block.  De  Catinat  sprang 
between  them  to  protect  her;  but  Marceau,  the  bearded 
seneschal,  had  already  seized  his  master  round  the  waist. 
With  the  strength  of  a  maniac,  his  teeth  clinched  and  the 
foam  churning  from  the  corners  of  his  lips,  de  Montespan 
writhed  round  in  the  man's  grasp,  and  shortening  his  sword, 
he  thrust  it  through  the  brown  beard  and  deep  into  the 
throat  behind  it.  Marceau  fell  back  with  a  choking  cry,  the 
blood  bubbling  from  his  mouth  and  his  wound ;  but  before 
his  murderer  could  disengage  his  weapon,  de  Catinat  and 
the  American,  aided  by  a  dozen  of  the  retainers,  had  dragged 
him  down  on  to  the  scaffold,  and  Amos  Green  had  pinioned 
him  so  securely  that  he  could  but  move  his  eyes  and  his 
lips,  with  which  he  lay  glaring  and  spitting  at  them.  So 
savage  were  his  own  followers  against  him — for  Marceau 
was  well  loved  among  them  — that,  with  axe  and  block  so 
ready,  justice  might  very  swiftly  have  had  her  way,  had  not 
a  long  clear  bugle  call,  rising  and  falling  in  a  thousand  little 
twirls  and  flourishes,  clanged  out  suddenly  in  the  still  morn- 
ing air.  De  Catinat  pricked  up  his  ears  at  the  sound  of  it 
like  a  hound  at  the  huntsman's  call. 

"  Did  you  hear,  Amos  ?" 

"  It  was  a  trumpet." 

"  It  was  the  guards'  bugle  call.  You,  there,  hasten  to  the 
gate  !  Throw  up  the  portcullis  and  drop  the  drawbridge  ! 
Stir  yourselves,  or  even  now  you  may  suffer  for  your  mas- 
ter's sins  !  It  has  been  a  narrow  escape,  Amos." 

"  You  may  say  so,  friend.  I  saw  him  put  out  his  hand  to 
her  hair,  even  as  you  sprang  from  the  window.  Another  in- 
stant and  he  would  have  had  her  scalped.  But  she  is  a  fair 
woman,  the  fairest  that  ever  my  eyes  rested  upon,  and  it  is 
not  fit  that  she  should  kneel  here  upon  these  boards."  He 
dragged  her  husband's  long  black  cloak  from  him,  and  made 
a  pillow  for  the  senseless  woman  with  a  tenderness  and  del- 

203 


icacy  which  came  strangely  from  a  man  of  his  build  and 
bearing. 

He  was  still  stooping  over  her  when  there  came  the  clang 
of  the  falling  bridge,  and  an  instant  later  the  clatter  of  the 
hoofs  of  a  troop  of  cavalry,  who  swept  with  wave  of  plumes, 
toss  of  manes,  and  jingle  of  steel  into  the  court-yard.  At 
the  head  was  a  tall  horseman  in  the  full  dress  of  the  guards, 
with  a  curling  feather  in  his  hat,  high  buff  gloves,  and  his 
sword  gleaming  in  the  sunlight.  He  cantered  forward  tow- 
ards the  scaffold,  his  keen  dark  eyes  taking  in  every  de- 
tail of  the  group  which  awaited  him  there.  De  Catinat's 
face  brightened  at  the  sight  of  him,  and  he  was  down  in  an 
instant  beside  his  stirrup. 

"  De  Brissac  !"  he  cried. 

"  De  Catinat !  Now  where  in  the  name  of  wonder  did 
you  come  from  ?" 

"  1  have  been  a  prisoner.  Tell  me,  de  Brissac,  did  you 
leave  the  message  in  Paris  ?" 

"  Certainly  I  did." 

<;  And  the  Archbishop  came  ?" 

"  He  did." 

"  And  the  marriage  ?" 

"  Took  place  as  arranged.  That  is  why  this  poor  woman 
whom  I  see  yonder  has  had  to  leave  the  palace." 

"  I  thought  as  much." 

"  I  trust  that  no  harm  has  come  to  her  ?" 

"  My  friend  and  I  were  just  in  time  to  save  her.  Her 
husband  lies  there.  He  is  a  fiend,  de  Brissac !" 

"  Very  likely ;  but  an  angel  might  have  grown  bitter  had 
he  had  the  same  treatment." 

"  We  have  him  pinioned  here.  He  has  slain  a  man,  and 
I  have  slain  another." 

"On  my  word,  you  have  been  busy." 

"  How  did  you  know  that  we  were  here  ?" 

"  Nay,  that  is  an  unexpected  pleasure." 

"  You  did  not  come  for  us,  then  ?" 

"  No  ;  we  came  for  the  lady." 

"  And  how  did  this  fellow  get  hold  of  her  ?" 

"  Her  brother  was  to  have  taken  her  in  his  carriage. 
204 


Her  husband  learned  it,  and  by  a  lying  message  he  coaxed 
her  into  his  own,  which  was  at  another  door.  When  de 
Vivonne  found  that  she  did  not  come,  and  that  her  rooms 
were  empty,  he  made  inquiries,  and  soon  learned  how  she 
had  gone.  De  Montespan's  arms  had  been  seen  on  the 
panel,  and  so  the  King  sent  me  here  with  my  troop  as  fast 
as  we  could  gallop." 

"Ah,  and  you  would  have  come  too  late  had  a  strange 
chance  not  brought  us  here.  I  know  not  who  it  was  who 
waylaid  us,  for  this  man  seemed  to  know  nothing  of  the 
matter.  However,  all  that  will  be  clearer  afterwards.  What 
is  to  be  done  now  ?" 

"  I  have  my  own  orders.  Madame  is  to  be  sent  to  Petit 
Bourg,  and  any  who  are  concerned  in  offering  her  violence 
are  to  be  kept  until  the  King's  pleasure  is  known.  The  cas- 
tle, too,  must  be  held  for  the  King.  But  you,  de  Catinat, 
you  have  nothing  to  do  now  ?" 

"  Nothing,  save  that  I  would  like  well  to  ride  into  Paris 
to  see  that  all  is  right  with  my  uncle  and  his  daughter." 

"  Ah,  that  sweet  little  cousin  of  thine  !  By  my  soul,  I  do 
not  wonder  that  the  folk  know  you  well  in  the  Rue  St.  Mar- 
tin. Well,  I  have  carried  a  message  for  you  once,  and  you 
shall  do  as  much  for  me  now." 

"  With  all  my  heart.     And  whither  ?" 

"  To  Versailles.  The  King  will  be  on  fire  to  know  how 
we  have  fared.  You  have  the  best  right  to  tell  him,  since 
without  you  and  your  friend  yonder  it  would  have  been  but 
a  sorry  tale." 

"  I  will  be  there  in  two  hours." 

4'  Have  you  horses  ?" 

"  Ours  were  slain." 

"  You  will  find  some  in  the  stables  here.  Pick  the  best, 
since  you  have  lost  your  own  in  the  King's  service." 

The  advice  was  too  good  to  be  overlooked.  De  Catinat, 
beckoning  to  Amos  Green,  hurried  away  with  him  to  the 
stables,  while  de  Brissac,  with  a  few  short  sharp  orders,  dis- 
armed the  retainers,  stationed  his  guardsmen  all  over  the 
castle,  and  arranged  for  the  removal  of  the  lady  and  for  the 
custody  of  her  husband.  An  hour  later  the  'two  friends 

205 


were  riding  swiftly  down  the  country  road,  inhaling  the 
sweet  air,  which  seemed  the  fresher  for  their  late  experience 
of  the  dank  foul  vapors  of  their  dungeon.  Far  behind  them 
a  little  dark  pinnacle  jutting  over  a  grove  of  trees  marked 
the  chateau  which  they  had  left,  while  on  the  extreme  hori- 
zon to  the  west  there  came  a  quick  shimmer  and  sparkle 
where  the  level  rays  of  the  early  sun  gleamed  upon  the 
magnificent  palace  which  was  their  goal. 


CHAPTER     XXIII 
THE    FALL    OF    THE    CATINATS 

Two  days  after  Madame  de  Maintenon's  marriage  to  the 
King  there  was  held  within  the  humble  walls  of  her  little 
room  a  meeting  which  was  destined  to  cause  untold  misery 
to  many  hundreds  of  thousands  of  people,  and  yet,  in  the 
wisdom  of  Providence,  to  be  an  instrument  in  carrying 
French  arts  and  French  ingenuity  and  French  sprightliness 
among  those  heavier  Teutonic  peoples  who  have  been  the 
stronger  and  the  better  ever  since  for  the  leaven  which  they 
then  received.  For  in  history  great  evils  have  sometimes 
arisen  from  a  virtue,  and  most  beneficent  results  have  often 
followed  hard  upon  a  crime. 

The  time  had  come  when  the  Church  was  to  claim  her 
promise  from  madame,  and  her  pale  cheek  and  sad  eyes 
showed  how  vain  it  had  been  for  her  to  try  and  drown 
the  pleadings  of  her  tender  heart  by  the  arguments  of  the 
bigots  around  her.  She  knew  the  Huguenots  of  France. 
Who  could  know  them  better,  seeing  that  she  was  herself 
from  their  stock,  and  had  been  brought  up  in  their  faith  ? 
She  knew  their  patience,  their  nobility,  their  independence, 
their  tenacity.  What  chance  was  there  that  they  would  con- 
form to  the  King's  wish  ?  A  few  great  nobles  might,  but  the 
others  would  laugh  at  the  galleys,  the  jail,  or  even  the 
gallows  when  the  faith  of  their  fathers  was  at  stake.  If 
their  creed  were  no  longer  tolerated,  then,  and  if  they  re- 
mained true  to  it,  they  must  either  fly  from  the  country 
or  spend  a  living  death  tugging  at  an  oar  or  working 
in  a  chain-gang  upon  the  roads.  It  was  a  dreadful  alter- 
native to  present  to  a  people  who  were  so  numerous 
that  they  made  a  small  nation  in  themselves.  And  most 

207 


dreadful  of  all  that  she  who  was  of  their  own  blood 
should  cast  her  voice  against  them.  And  yet  her  promise 
had  been  given,  and  now  the  time  had  come  when  it  must 
be  redeemed. 

The  eloquent  Bishop  Bossuet  was  there,  with  Louvois, 
the  Minister  of  War,  and  the  thin  pale  Jesuit,  Father  La 
Chaise,  each  piling  argument  upon  argument  to  overcome 
the  reluctance  of  the  King.  Beside  them  stood  another 
priest,  so  thin  and  so  pale  that  he  might  have  risen  from 
his  bed  of  death,  but  with  a  fierce  light  burning  in  his  large 
dark  eyes,  and  with  a  terrible  resolution  in  his  drawn  brows 
and  in  the  set  of  his  grim,  lanky  jaw.  Madame  bent  over 
her  tapestry  and  weaved  her  colored  silks  in  silence,  while 
the  King  leaned  upon  his  hand  and  listened  with  the  face 
of  a  man  who  knows  that  he  is  driven,  and  yet  can  hardly 
turn  against  the  goads.  On  the  low  table  lay  a  paper,  with 
pen  and  ink  beside  it.  It  was  the  order  for  the  revocation, 
and  it  only  needed  the  King's  signature  to  make  it  the  law 
of  the  land. 

"And  so,  father,  you  are  of  opinion  that  if  I  stamp  out 
heresy  in  this  fashion  I  shall  assure  my  own  salvation  in 
the  next  world  ?"  he  asked. 

"  You  will  have  merited  a  reward." 

"  And  you  think  so  too,  Monsieur  Bishop  ?" 

"Assuredly,  sire." 

"  And  you,  Abbe  du  Chayla  ?'• 

The  emaciated  priest  spoke  for  the  first  time,  a  tinge  of 
color  creeping  into  his  corpse-like  cheeks,  and  a  more  lurid 
light  in  his  deep-set  eyes. 

"  I  know  not  about  assuring  your  salvation,  sire.  I  think 
it  would  take  very  much  more  to  do  that.  But  there  cannot 
be  a  doubt  as  to  your  damnation  if  you  do  not  do  it." 

The  King  started  angrily,  and  frowned  at  the  speaker. 

"  Your  words  are  somewhat  more  curt  than  I  am  accus- 
tomed to,"  he  remarked. 

"  In  such  a  matter  it  were  cruel  indeed  to  leave  you  in 
doubt.  I  say  again  that  your  soul's  fate  hangs  upon  the 
balance.  Heresy  is  a  mortal  sin.  Thousands  of  heretics 
would  turn  to  the  Church  if  you  did  but  give  the  word. 

208 


Therefore  these  thousands  of  mortal  sins  are  all  upon  your 
soul.  What  hope  for  it,  then,  if  you  do  not  amend  ?" 

"  My  father  and  my  grandfather  tolerated  them." 

"Then,  without  some  special  extension  of  the  grace  of 
God,  your  father  and  your  grandfather  are  burning  in 
hell." 

"Insolent!"     The  King  sprang  from  his  seat. 

"  Sire,  I  will  say  what  I  hold  to  be  the  truth  were  you 
fifty  times  a  king.  What  care  I  for  any  man  when  I  know 
that  I  speak  for  the  King  of  kings  ?  See  ;  are  these  the 
limbs  of  one  who  would  shrink  from  testifying  to  truth  ?" 
With  a  sudden  movement  he  threw  back  the  long  sleeves  of 
his  gown  and  shot  out  his  white  fleshless  arms.  The  bones 
were  all  knotted  and  bent  and  screwed  into  the  most  fan- 
tastic shapes.  Even  Louvois,  the  hardened  man  of  the  court, 
and  La  Chaise,  the  sombre  priest,  shuddered  at  the  sight  of 
those  dreadful  limbs.  He  raised  them  above  his  head  and 
turned  his  burning  eyes  upward. 

"  Heaven  has  chosen  me  to  testify  for  the  faith  before 
now,"  said  he.  "  I  heard  that  blood  was  wanted  to  nourish 
the  young  Church  of  Siam,  and  so  to  Siam  I  journeyed.. 
They  tore  me  open  ;  they  crucified  me  ;  they  wrenched  and 
split  my  bones.  I  was  left  as  a  dead  man,  yet  God  has 
breathed  the  breath  of  life  back  into  me  that  I  may  help  in 
this  great  work  of  the  regeneration  of  France." 

"Your  sufferings,  father,"  said  Louis,  resuming  his  seat, 
"  give  you  every  claim,  both  upon  the  Church  and  upon  me, 
who  am  its  special  champion  and  protector.  What  would 
you  counsel,  then,  father,  in  the  case  of  those  Huguenots 
who  refuse  to  change  ?" 

"  They  would  change,"  cried  Du  Chayla,  with  a  drawn 
smile  upon  his  ghastly  face.  "  They  must  bend  or  they 
must  break.  What  matter  if  they  be  ground  to  powder,  if 
we  can  but  build  up  a  complete  Church  in  the  land  ?"  His 
deep-set  eyes  glowed  with  ferocity,  and  he  shook  one  bony 
hand  in  savage  wrath  above  his  head. 

"  The  cruelty  with  which  you  have  been  used,  then,  has 
not  taught  you  to  he  more  tender  to  others." 

"  Tender !  To-  heretics !  No,  sire,  my  own  pains  have 
p  209 


taught  me  that  the  world  and  the  flesh  are  as  nothing,  and 
that  the  truest  charity  to  another  is  to  capture  his  soul  at 
all  risks  to  his  vile  body.  I  should  have  these  Huguenot 
souls,  sire,  though  I  turned  France  into  a  shambles  to  gain 
them." 

Louis  was  evidently  deeply  impressed  by  the  fearless 
words  and  the  wild  earnestness  of  the  speaker.  He  leaned 
his  head  upon  his  hand  for  a  little  time,  and  remained  sunk 
in  the  deepest  thought. 

"  Besides,  sire,"  said  Pere  La  Chaise,  softly,  "  there  would 
be  little  need  for  these  stronger  measures  of  which  the  good 
abbe  speaks.  As  I  have  already  remarked  to  you,  you  are 
so  beloved  in  your  kingdom  that  the  mere  assurance  that 
you  had  expressed  your  will  upon  the  subject  would  be 
enough  to  turn  them  all  to  the  true  faith." 

"  I  wish  that  I  could  think  so,  father ;  I  wish  that  I  could 
think  so.  But  what  is  this  ?" 

It  was  his  valet  who  had  half  opened  the  door. 

"  Captain  de  Catinat  is  here,  who  desires  to  see  you  at 
once,  sire." 

"Ask  the  Captain  to  enter.  Ah!"  A  happy  thought 
seemed  to  have  struck  him.  "We  shall  see  what  love  for 
me  will  do  in  such  a  matter,  for  if  it  is  anywhere  to  be  found 
it  must  be  among  my  'own  body-servants." 

The  guardsman  had  arrived  that  instant  from  his  long 
ride,  and  leaving  Amos  Green  with  the  horses,  he  had  come 
on  at  once,  all  dusty  and  travel-stained,  to  carry  his  mes- 
sage to-the  King.  He  entered  now,  and  stood  with  the 
quiet  ease  of  a  man  who  is  used  to  such  scenes,  his  hand 
raised  in  a  salute. 

"  What  news,  Captain  ?" 

"Major  de  Brissac  bade  me  tell  you,  sire,  that  he  held 
the  Castle  of  Portillac,  that  the  lady  is  safe,  and  that  her 
husband  is  a  prisoner." 

Louis  and  his  wife  exchanged  a  quick  glance  of  relief. 

"  That  is  well,"  said  he.  "  By-the-way,  Captain,  you  have 
served  me  in  many  ways  of  late,  and  always  with  success. 
I  hear,  Louvois,  that  de  la  Salle  is  dead  of  the  small-pox." 

"  He  died  yesterday,  sire." 

210 


"  Then  I  desire  that  you  make  out  the  vacant  commis- 
sion of  major  to  Monsieur  de  Catinat.  Let  itfe  be  the  first 
to  congratulate  you,  Major,  upon  your  promotion,  though 
you  will  need  to  exchange  the  blue  coat  for  the  pearl  and 
gray  of  the  mousquetaires.  We  cannot  spare  you  from  the 
household,  you  see." 

De  Catinat  kissed  the  hand  which  the  monarch  held  out 
to  him. 

"  May  I  be  worthy  of  your  kindness,  sire !" 

"  You  would  do  what  you  could  to  serve  me,  would  you 
not?" 

"  My  life  is  yours,  sire." 

"  Very  good.    Then  I  shall  put  your  fidelity  to  the  proof." 

"  I  am  ready  for  any  proof." 

"  It  is  not  a  very  severe  one.  You  see  this  paper  upon 
the  table.  It  is  an  order  that  all  the  Huguenots  in  my  do- 
minions shall  give  up  their  errors,  under  pain  of  banish- 
ment or  captivity.  Now  I  have  hopes  that  there  are  many 
of  my  faithful  subjects  who  are  at  fault  in  this  matter,  but 
who  will  abjure  it  when  they  learn  that  it  is  my  clearly  ex- 
pressed wish  that  they  should  do  so.  It  would  be  a  great 
joy  to  me  to  find  that  it  was  so,  for  it  would  be  a  pain  to  me 
to  use  force-against  any  man  who  bears  the  name  of  French- 
man. Do  you  follow  me  ?" 

"Yes,  sire."  The  young  man  had  turned  deadly  pale, 
and  he  shifted  his  feet,  and  opened  and  clasped  his  hands. 
He  had  faced  death  a  dozen  times  and  under  many  differ- 
ent forms,  but  never  had  he  felt  such  a  sinking  of  the  heart 
as  came  over  him  now. 

"  You  are  yourself  a  Huguenot,  I  understand.  I  would 
gladly  have  you,  then,  as  the  first-fruit  of  this  great  meas- 
ure. Let  us  hear  from  your  own  lips  that  you>  for  one, 
are  ready  to  follow  the  lead  of  your  King  in  this  as  in  other 
things." 

The  young  guardsman  still  hesitated,  though  his  doubts 
were  rather  as  to  how  he  should  frame  his  reply  than  as  to 
what  its  substance  should  be.  He  felt  that  in  an  instant 
Fortune  had  wiped  out  all  the  good  turns  which  she  had 
done  him  during  his  past  life,  and  that  now,  far  from  being 

211 


in  her  debt,  he  held  a  heavy  score  against  her.  The  King 
arched  his  eyebrows  and  drummed  his  fingers  impatiently 
as  he  glanced  at  the  downcast  face  and  dejected  bearing. 

"Why  all  this  thought?"  he  cried.  "You  are  a  man 
whom  I  have  raised  and  whom  I  will  raise.  He  who  has  a 
major's  epaulets  at  thirty  may  carry  a  marshal's  baton  at 
fifty.  Your  past  is  mine,  and  your  future  shall  be  no  less 
so.  What  other  hopes  have  you  ?" 

"  I  have  none,  sire,  outside  your  service." 

"  Why  this  silence,  then  ?  Why  do  you  not  give  the  as- 
surance which  I  demand  ?" 

"  I  cannot  do  it,  sire." 

"You  cannot  do  it!" 

"  It  is  impossible.  I  should  have  no  more  peace  in  my 
mind,  or  respect  for  myself,  if  I  knew  that  for  the  sake  of 
position  or  wealth  I  had  given  up  the  faith  of  my  fathers." 

"Man,  you  are  surely  mad!  There  is  all  that  a  man 
could  covet  upon  one  side,  and  what  is  there  upon  the 
other?" 

"  There  is  my  honor." 

"  And  is  it,  then,  a  dishonor  to  embrace  my  religion  ?" 

"It  would  be  a  dishonor  to  me  to  embrace  it  for  the 
sake  of  gain  without  believing  in  it." 

"Then  believe  it." 

"  Alas,  sire,  a  man  cannot  force  himself  to  believe.  Be- 
lief is  a  thing  which  must  come  to  him,  not  he  to  it." 

"  On  my  word,  father,"  said  Louis,  glancing  with  a  bitter 
smile  at  his  Jesuit  confessor,  "  I  shall  have  to  pick  the  ca- 
dets of  the  household  from  your  seminary,  since  my  officers 
have  turned  casuists  and  theologians.  So,  for  the  last  time, 
you  refuse  to  obey  my  request  ?" 

"  Oh,  sire — "  De  Catinat  took  a  step  forward  with  out- 
stretched hands  and  tears  in  his  eyes. 

But  the  King  checked  him  with  a  gesture.  "  I  desire  no 
protestations,"  said  he.  "  I  judge  a  man  by  his  acts.  Do 
you  abjure  or  not  ?" 

"  I  cannot,  sire."  ' 

"You  see,"  said  Louis,  turning  again  to  the  Jesuit,  "it 
will  pot  be  as  easy  as  you  think." 

212 


"  This  man  is  obstinate,  it  is  true,  but  many  others  will 
be  more  yielding." 

The  King  shook  his  head.  "  I  would  that  I  knew  what 
to  do,"  said  he.  "  Madame,  I  know  that  you,  at  least,  will 
ever  give  me  the  best  advice.  You  have  heard  all  that  has 
been  said.  What  do  you  recommend  ?" 

She  kept  her  eyes  still  fixed  upon  her  tapestry,  but  her 
voice  was  firm  and  clear  as  she  answered  : 

"  You  have  yourself  said  that  you  are  the  eldest  son  of 
the  Church.  If  the  eldest  son  desert  her,  then  who  will  do 
her  bidding?  And  there  is  truth,  too,  in  what  the  holy 
abbe  has  said.  You  may  imperil  your  own  soul  by  condon- 
ing this  sin  of  heresy.  It  grows  and  flourishes,  and  if  it  be 
not  rooted  out  now,  it  may  choke  the  truth  as  weeds  and 
briers  choke  the  wheat." 

"  There  are  districts  in  France  now,"  said  Bossuet, "  where 
a  church  is  not  to  be  seen  in  a  day's  journey,  and  where  all 
the  folk,  from  the  nobles  to  the  peasants,  are  of  the  same 
accursed  faith.  So  it  is  in  the  Cevennes,  where  the  people 
are  as  fierce  and  rugged  as  their  own  mountains.  Heaven 
guard  the  priests  who  have  to  bring  them  back  from  their 
errors !" 

"Whom  should  I  send  on  so  perilous  a  task?"  asked 
Louis. 

The  Abbe  du  Chayla  was  down  in  an  instant  upon  his 
knees  with  his  gaunt  hands  out-stretched.  "  Send  me,  sire  J 
Me  !"  he  cried.  "  I  have  never  asked  a  favor  of  you,  and 
never  will  again.  But  I  am  the  man  who  could  break  these 
people.  Send  me  with  your  message  to  the  people  of  the 
Cevennes." 

"  God  help  the  people  of  the  Cevennes !"  muttered  Louis, 
as  he  looked  with  mingled  respect  and  loathing  at  the  ema- 
ciated face  and  fiery  eyes  of  the  fanatic.  "  Very  well,  abbe," 
he  added  aloud  ;  "you  shall  go  to  the  Cevennes." 

Perhaps  for  an  instant  there  came  upon  the  stern  priest 
some  premonition  of  that  dreadful  morning  when,  as  he 
crouched  in  a  corner  of  his  burning  home,  fifty  daggers  were 
to  rasp  against  each  other  in  his  body.  He  sunk  his  face 
in  his  hands,  and  a  shudder  passed  over  his  gaunt  frame. 

213 


Then  he  rose,  and  folding  his  arms,  he  resumed  his  impas- 
sive attitude.  Louis  took  up  the  pen  from  the  table,  and 
drew  the  paper  towards  him. 

"  I  have  the  same  counsel,  then,  from  all  of  you,"  said  he — 
"  from  you,  Bishop ;  from  you,  father ;  from  you,  madame  ; 
from  you,  abbe ;  and  from  you,  Louvois.  Well,  if  ill  come 
from  it,  may  it  not  be  visited  upon  me !  But  what  is  this  ?" 
De  Catinat  had  taken  a  step  forward  with  his  hand  out- 
stretched. His  ardent,  impetuous  nature  had  suddenly 
broken  down  all  the  barriers  of  caution,  and  he  seemed  for 
the  instant  to  see  that  countless  throng  of  men,  women, 
and  children  of  his  own  faith,  all  unable  to  say  a  word  for 
themselves,  and  all  looking  to  him  as  their  champion  and 
spokesman.  He  had  thought  little  of  such  matters  when 
all  was  well,  but  now,  when  danger  threatened,  the  deeper 
side  of  his  nature  was  moved,  and  he  felt  how  light  a  thing 
is  life  and  fortune  when  weighed  against  a  great  abiding 
cause  and  principle. 

"Do  not  sign  it,  sire,"  he  cried.  "You  will  live  to  wish 
that  your  hand  had  withered  ere  it  grasped  that  pen.  I 
know  it,  sire ;  I  am  sure  of  it.  Consider  all  these  helpless 
folk — the  little  children,  the  young  girls,  the  old  and  the 
feeble.  Their  creed  is  themselves.  As  well  ask  the  leaves 
to  change  the  twigs  on  which  they  grow.  They  could  not 
change.  At  most,  you  could  but  hope  to  turn  them  from  hon- 
est folk  into  hypocrites.  And  why  should  you  do  it  ?  They 
honor  you.  They  love  you.  They  harm  none.  They  are 
proud  to  serve  in  your  armies,  to  fight  for  you,  to  work  for 
you,  to  build  up  the  greatness  of  your  kingdom.  I  implore 
you,  sire,  to  think  again  before  you  sign  an  order  which  will 
bring  misery  and  desolation  to  so  many." 

For  a  moment  the  King  had  hesitated  as  he  listened  to 
the  short  abrupt  sentences  in  which  the  soldier  pleaded  for 
his  fellows,  but  his  face  hardened  again  as  he  remembered 
how  even  his  own  personal  entreaty  had  been  unable  to 
prevail  with  this  young  dandy  of  the  court. 

"  France's  religion  should  be  that  of  France's  King,"  said 
he,  "  and  if  my  own  guardsmen  thwart  me  in  such  a  matter, 
I  must  find  others  who  will  be  more  faithful.  That  major's 

214 


commission  in  the  mousquetaires  must  go  to  Captain  de 
Belmont,  Louvois." 

"  Very  good,  sire." 

"And  de  Catinat's  commission  may  be  transferred  to 
Lieutenant  Labadoyere." 

"  Very  good,  sire." 

"  And  I  am  to  serve  you  no  longer  ?" 

"You  are  too  dainty  for  my  service." 

De  Catinat's  arms  fell  listlessly  to  his  side,  and  his  head 
sunk  forward  upon  his  breast.  Then',  as  he  realized  the 
ruin  of  all  the  hopes  of  his  life,  and  the  cruel  injustice  with 
which  he  had  been  treated,  he  broke  into  a  cry  of  despair, 
and  rushed  from  the  room  with  the  hot  tears  of  impotent 
anger  running  down  his  face.  So,  sobbing,  gesticulating, 
with  coat  unbuttoned  and  hat  awry,  he  burst  into  the  stable 
where  placid  Amos  Green  was  smoking  his  pipe  and  watch- 
ing with  critical  eyes  the  grooming  of  the  horses. 

"  What  in  thunder  is  the  matter  now  ?"  he  asked,  holding 
his  pipe  by  the  bowl,  while  the  blue  wreaths  curled  up  from 
his  lips. 

"  This  sword,"  cried  the  Frenchman — "  I  have  no  right 
to  wear  it !  I  shall  break  it !" 

"  Well,  and  I'll  break  my  knife  too  if  it  will  hearten  you  up." 

"  And  these,"  cried  de  Catinat,  tugging  at  his  silver  shoul- 
der-straps— "they  must  go." 

"  Ah,  you  draw  ahead  of  me  there,  for  I  never  had  any. 
But  come,  friend,  let  me  know  the  trouble,  that  I  may  see 
if  it  may  not  be  mended." 

"  To  Paris  !  to  Paris !"  shouted  the  guardsman,  frantically. 
"  If  I  am  ruined,  I  may  yet  be  in  time  to  save  them.  The 
horses,  quick  !" 

It  was  clear  to  the  American  that  some  sudden  calamity 
had  befallen,  so  he  aided  his  comrade  and  the  grooms  to 
saddle  and  bridle.  Five  minutes  later  they  were  flying  upon 
their  way,  and  in  little  more  than  an  hour  their  steeds,  all 
reeking  and  foam-flecked,  were  pulled  up  outside  the  high 
house  in  the  Rue  St.  Martin.  De  Catinat  sprang  from  his 
saddle  and  rushed  up-stairs,  while  ,A.mos  followed  in  his  own 
leisurely  fashion. 

215 


The  old  Huguenot  and  his  beautiful  daughter  were  seated 
at  one  side  of  the  great  fireplace,  her  hand  in  his,  and  they 
sprang  up  together,  she  to  throw  herself  with  a  glad  cry  into 
the  arms  of  her  lover,  and  he  to  grasp  the  hand  which  his 
nephew  held  out  to  him. 

At  the  other  side  of  the  fireplace,  with  a  very  long  pipe 
in  his  mouth  and  a  cup  of  wine  upon  a  settle  beside  him, 
sat  a  strange-looking  man,  with  grizzled  hair  and  beard,  a 
fleshy  red  projecting  nose,  and  two  little  gray  eyes,  which 
twinkled  out  from  under  huge  brindled  brows.  His  long 
thin  face  was  laced  and  seamed  with  wrinkles,  crossing  and 
recrossing  everywhere,  but  fanning  out  in  hundreds  from 
the  corners  of  his  eyes.  It  was  set  in  an  unchanging  ex- 
pression, and  as  it  was  of  the  same  color  all  over,  as  dark  as 
the  darkest  walnut,  it  might  have  been  some  quaint  figure- 
head cut  out  of  a  coarse-grained  wood.  He  was  clad  in  a 
blue  serge  jacket,  a  pair  of  red  breeches  smeared  at  the 
knees  with  tar,  clean  gray  worsted  stockings,  large  steel 
buckles  over  his  coarse  square-toed  shoes,  and  beside  him, 
balanced  upon  the  top  of  a  thick  oaken  cudgel,  was  a 
weather-stained  silver- laced  hat.  His  gray -shot  hair  was 
gathered  up  behind  into  a*short  stiff  tail,  and  a  seaman's 
hanger,  with  a  brass  handle,  was  girded  to  his  waist  by  a 
tarnished  leather  belt 

De  Catinat  had  been  too  occupied  to  take  notice  of  this 
singular  individual,  but  Amos  Green  gave  a  shout  of  delight 
at  the  sight  of  him,  and  ran  forward  to  greet  him.  The 
other's  wooden  face  relaxed  so  far  as  to  show  two  tobacco- 
stained  fangs,  and,  without  rising,  he  held  out  a  great  red 
hand,  of  the  size  and  shape  of  a  moderate  spade. 

"  Why,  Captain  Ephraim,"  cried  Amos,  in  English,  "  who 
ever  would  have  thought  of  finding  you  here  ?  De  Catinat, 
this  is  my  old  friend  Ephraim  Savage,  under  whose  charge 
I  came  here." 

"  Anchor's  apeak,  lad,  and  the  hatches  down,"  said  the 
stranger,  in  the  peculiar  drawling  voice  which  the  New- 
Englanders  had  retained  from  their  ancestors,  the  English 
Puritans. 

"  And  when  do  you  sail  ?" 

216 


"As  soon  as  your  foot  is  on  her  deck,  if  Providence  serve 
us  with  wind  and  tide.  And  how  has  all  gonfe  with  thee, 
Amos  ?" 

"  Right  well.     I  have  much  to  tell  you  of." 

"  I  trust  that  you  have  held  yourself  apart  from  all  their 
popish  devilry." 

"  Yes,  yes,  Ephraim." 

"  And  have  had  no  truck  with  the  scarlet  woman." 

"  No,  no  ;  but  what  is  it  now  ?" 

The  grizzled  hair  was  bristling  with  rage,  and  the  little 
gray  eyes  were  gleaming  from  under  the  heavy  tufts.  Amos, 
following  their  gaze,  saw  that  de  Catinat  was  seated  with 
his  arm  round  Adele,  while  her  head  rested  upon  his 
shoulder. 

"Ah,  if  I  but  knew  their  snip-snap,  lippetty-chippetty 
lingo  !  Saw  one  ever  such  a  sight !  Amos,  lad,  what  is  the 
French  for  a  'shameless  hussy'?" 

"  Nay,  nay,  Ephraim.  Surely  one  may  see  such  a  sight, 
and  think  no  harm  of  it,  on  our  side  of  the  water." 

"  Never,  Amos.     In  no  godly  country." 

"  Tut !  I  have  seen  folks  courting  in  New  York." 

"  Ah,  New  York  !  I  said  in  no  godly  country.  I  cannot 
answer  for  New  York  or  Virginia.  South  of  Cape  Cod,  or 
of  New  Haven  at  the  farthest,  there  is  no  saying  what  folk 
will  do.  Very  sure  I  am  that  in  Boston  or  Salem  or  Plym- 
outh she  would  see  the  bridewell  and  he  the  stocks  for  half 
as  much.  Ah  !"  He  shook  his  head  and  bent  his  brows 
at  the  guilty  couple. 

But  they  and  their  old  relative  were  far  too  engrossed 
with  their  own  affairs  to  give  a  thought  to  the  Puritan  sea- 
man. De  Catinat  had  told  his  tale  in  a  few  short,  bitter 
sentences,  the  injustice  that  had  been  done  him,  his  dis- 
missal from  the  King's  service,  and  the  ruin  which  had 
come  upon  the  Huguenots  of  France.  Adele,  as  is  the 
angel  instinct  of  woman,  thought  only  of  her  lover  and  his 
misfortunes  as  she  listened  to  his  story,  but  the  old  mer- 
chant tottered  to  his  feet  when  he  heard  of  the  revocation 
of  the  edict,  and  stood  with  shaking  limbs,  staring  about 
him  with  bewilderment. 

217 


"  What  am  I  to  do  ?"  he  cried.  "  What  am  I  to  do  ?  I 
am  too  old  to  begin  my  life  again." 

"  Never  fear,  uncle,"  said  de  Catinat,  heartily.  "  There 
are  other  lands  beyond  France." 

"  But  not  for  me.  No,  no  ;  I  am  too  old.  Lord,  but  Thy 
hand  is  heavy  upon  Thy  servants  !  Now  is  the  vial  opened, 
and  the  carved  work  of  the  sanctuary  thrown  down.  Ah, 
what  shall  I  do,  and  whither  shall  I  turn  ?"  He  wrung  his 
hands  in  his  perplexity. 

"  What  is  amiss  with  him,  then,  Amos  ?"  asked  the  sea- 
man. "  Though  I  know  nothing  of  what  he  says,  yet  I  can 
see  that  he  flies  a  distress  signal." 

"  He  and  his  must  leave  the  country,  Ephraim." 

"  And  why  ?" 

"  Because  they  are  Protestants,  and  the  King  will  not 
abide  their  creed." 

Ephraim  Savage  was  across  the  room  in  an  instant,  and 
had  enclosed  the  old  merchant's  thin  hand  in  his  own  great 
knotted  fist.  There  was  a  brotherly  sympathy  in  his  strong 
grip  and  rugged,  weather-stained  face  which  held  up  the 
other's  courage  as  no  words  could  have  done. 

"What  is  the  French  for  'the  scarlet  woman,'  Amos?" 
he  asked,  glancing  over  his  shoulder.  "  Tell  this  man  that 
we  shall  see  him  through.  Tell  him  that  we've  got  a  country 
where  he'll  just  fit  in  like  a  bung  in  a  barrel.  Tell  him  that 
religion  is  free  to  all  there,  and  not  a  papist  nearer  than 
Baltimore  or  the  Capuchins  of  the  Penobscot.  Tell  him 
that  if  he  wants  to  come,  the  Golden  Rod  is  waiting  with 
her  anchor  apeak  and  her  cargo  aboard.  Tell  him  what 
you  like,  so  long  as  you  make  him  come." 

"Then  we  must  come  at  once,"  said  de  Catinat,  as  he 
listened  to  the  cordial  message  which  was  conveyed  to  his 
uncle.  "To-night  the  orders  will  be  out,  and  to-morrow  it 
may  be  too  late." 

"  But  my  business  !"  cried  the  merchant. 

"  Take  what  valuables  you  can  and  leave  the  rest.  Bet- 
ter that  than  lose  all,  and  liberty  into  the  bargain." 

And  so  at  last  it  was  arranged.  .That  very  night,  within 
five  minutes  of  the  closing  of  the  gates,  there  passed  out  of 

218 


Paris  a  small  party  of  five,  three  upon  horseback,  and  two 
in  a  closed  carriage  which  bore  several  weighty*  boxes  upon 
the  top.  They  were  the  first  leaves  flying  before  the  hurri- 
cane, the  earliest  of  that  great  multitude  who  were  within 
the  next  few  months  to  stream  along  every  road  which  led 
from  France,  finding  their  journeys  end  too  often  in  galley, 
dungeon,  and  torture  chamber,  and  yet  flooding  over  the 
frontiers  in  numbers  sufficient  to  change  the  industries  and 
modify  the  characters  of  all  the  neighboring  peoples.  Like 
the  Israelites  of  old,  they  had  been  driven  from  their  homes 
at  the  bidding  of  an  angry  King,  who,  even  while  he  exiled 
them,  threw  every  difficulty  in  the  way  of  their  departure. 
Like  them,  too,  there  were  none  of  them  who  could  hope  to 
reach  their  promised  land  without  grievous  wanderings, 
penniless,  friendless,  and  destitute.  What  passages  befell 
these  pilgrims  in  their  travels,  what  dangers  they  met  and 
overcame  in  the  land  of  the  Swiss,  on  the  Rhine,  among  the 
Walloons,  in  England,  in  Ireland,  in  Berlin,  and  even  in  far- 
off  Russia,  has  still  to  be  written.  .  This  one  little  group, 
however,  whom  we  know,  we  may  follow  in  their  venture- 
some journey,  and  see  the  chances  which  befell  them  upon 
that  great  continent  which  had  lain  fallow  for  so  long,  sown 
only  with  the  weeds  of  humanity,  but  which  was  now  at  last 
about  to  quicken  into  such  a  glorious  life. 


THAT  NIGHT  THERE  PASSED  OUT  A  PARTY   OF  FIVE" 


PART  II 

IN  THE   NEW  WORLD 


CHAPTER    XXIV 
THE    START    OF    THE  GOLDEN  ROD 

HANKS  to  the  early  tidings  which 
the  guardsman  had  brought  with 
him,  his  little  party  were  now  ahead 
of  the  news.  As  they  passed 
through  the  village  of  Louvier  in 
the  early  morning  they  caught  a 
glimpse  of  a  naked  corpse  upon  a 
dunghill,  and  were  told  by  a  grin- 
ning watchman  that  it  was  that  of 
a  Huguenot  who  had  died  impeni- 
tent; but  that  was  a  common  enough 
occurrence  already,  and  did  not 
mean  that  there  had  been  any 
change  in  the  law.  At  Rouen  all 
was  quiet,  and  Captain  Ephraim 

Savage,  before  evening,  had  brought  both  them  and  such 
property  as  they  had  saved  aboard  his  brigantine  the  Golden 
Rod.  It  was  but  a  little  craft,  some  seventy  tons  burden, 
but  at  a  time  when  so  many  were  putting  out  to  sea  in  open 
boats,  preferring  the  wrath  of  Nature  to  that  of  the  King, 
it  was  a  refuge  indeed.  The  same  night  the  seaman  drew 
up  his  anchor  and  began  to  slowly  make  his  way  down  the 
winding  river. 

And  very  slow  work  it  was.  There  was  half  a  moon  shin- 
ing and  a  breeze  from  the  east,  but  the  stream  writhed 
and  twisted  and  turned  until  sometimes  they  seemed  to  be 
sailing  up  rather  than  down.  In  the  long  reaches  they 
set  the  yard  square  and  ran,  but  often  they  had  to  lower 
their  two  boats  and  warp  her  painfully  along,  Tomlinson  of 
Q  223 


Salem -(the  mate)  and  six  grave  tobacco-chewing  New  Eng- 
land seamen,  with  their  broad  palmetto  hats,  tugging  and 
straining  at  the  oars.  Amos  Green,  de  Catinat,  and  even 
the  old  merchant  had  to  take  their  spell  ere  morning, 
when  the  sailors  were  needed  aboard  for  the  handling  of  the 
canvas.  At  last,  however,  with  the  early  dawn,  the  river 
broadened  out,  and  each  bank  trended  away,  leaving  a  long, 
funnel-shaped  estuary  between.  Ephraim  Savage  snuffed 
the  air  and  paced  the  deck  briskly,  with  a  twinkle  in  his  keen 
gray  eyes.  The  wind  had  fallen  away,  but  there  was  still 
enough  to  drive  them  slowly  upon  their  course. 

"  Where's  the  gal  ?"  he  asked. 

"  She  is  in  my  cabin,"  said  Amos  Green.  "  I  thought  that 
maybe  she  could  manage  there  until  we  got  across." 

"  Where  will  you  sleep  yourself,  then  ?" 

"  Tut !  a  litter  of  spruce  boughs  and  a  sheet  of  birch 
bark  over  me  have  been  enough  all  these  years.  What 
would  I  ask  better  than  this  deck  of  soft  white  pine  and 
my  blanket?" 

"  Very  good.  The  old  man  and  his  nephew,  him  with 
the  blue  coat,  can  have  the  two  empty  bunks.  But  you 
must  speak  to  that  man,  Amos.  Til  have  no  philandering 
aboard  my  ship,  lad;  no  whispering  or  cuddling  or  any 
such  foolishness.  Tell  him  that  this  ship  is  just  a  bit  broke 
off  from  Boston,  and  he'll  have  to  put  up  with  Boston  ways 
until  he  gets  off  her.  They've  been  good  enough  for  better 
men  than  him.  You  give  me  the  French  for  '  no  philander- 
ing,' and  I'll  bring  him  up  with  a  round  turn  when  he  drifts." 

"  It's  a  pity  that  we  left  so  quick,  or  they  might  have  been 
married  before  we  started.  She's  a  good  girl,  Ephraim,  and 
he  a  fine  man,  for  all  that  their  ways  are  not  the  same  as 
ours.  They  don't  seem  to  take  life  so  hard  as  we,  and  maybe 
they  get  more  pleasure  out  of  it." 

"  I  never  heard  tell  that  we  were  put  here  to  get  pleasure 
out  of  it,"  said  the  old  Puritan,  shaking  his  head.  "The 
valley  of  the  shadow  of  death  don't  seem  to  me  to  be  the 
kind  o'  name  one  would  give  to  a  playground.  It  is  a  trial 
and  a  chastening,  that's  what  it  is ;  the  gall  of  bitterness 
and  the  bond  of  iniquity.  We're  bad  from  the  beginning, 

224 


like  a  stream  that  runs  from  a  tamarack  swamp,  and  we've 
enough  to  do  to  get  ourselves  to  rights  without  any  fool's 
talk  about  pleasure." 

"  It  seems  to  me  to  be  all  mixed  up,"  said  Amos,  "  like 
the  fat  and  the  lean  in  a  bag  of  pemmican.  Look  at  that 
sun  just  pushing  its  head  over  the  trees,  and  see  the  pink 
flush  on  the  clouds,  and  the  river  like  a  rosy  ribbon  behind 
us.  It's  mighty  pretty  to  our  eyes  and  very  pleasing  to  us, 
and  it  wouldn't  be  so,  to  my  mind,  if  the  Creator  hadn't 
wanted  it  to  be.  Many  a  time  when  I've  lain  in  the  woods 
in  the  fall  and  smoked  my  pipe,  and  felt  how  good  the  to- 
bacco was,  and  how  bright  the  yellow  maples  were,  and  the 
purple  ash,  and  the  red  tupelo  blazing  among  the  brush- 
wood, I've  felt  that  the  real  fool's  talk  was  with  the  men 
who  could  doubt  that  all  this  was  meant  to  make  the  world 
happier  for  us." 

'•  You've  been  thinkin'  too  much  in  them  woods,"  said 
Ephraim  Savage,  gazing  at  him  uneasily.  "  Don't  let  your 
sail  be  too  great  for  your  boat,  lad,  nor  trust  to  your  own 
wisdom.  Your  father  was  from  the  Bay,  and  you  were  raised 
from  a  stock  that  cast  the  dust  of  England  from  their  feet 
rather  than  bow  down  to  Baal.  Keep  a  grip  on  the  Word, 
and  don't  think  beyond  it.  But  what  is  the  matter  with  the 
old  man  ?  He  don't  seem  easy  in  his  mind." 

The  old  merchant  had  been  leaning  over  the  bulwarks, 
looking  back  with  a  drawn  face  and  weary  eyes  at  the  red 
curving  track  behind  them  which  marked  the  path  to  Paris. 
Adele  had  come  up  now,  with  not:  a  thought  to  spare  upon 
the  dangers  and  troubles  which  lay  in  front  of  her,  as  she 
chafed  the  old  man's  thin  cold  hands  and  whispered  words 
of  love  and  comfort  into  his  ears.  But  they  had  come  to 
the  point  where  the  gentle,  still-flowing  river  began  for  the 
first  time  to  throb  to  the  beat  of  the  sea.  The  old  man  gazed 
forward  with  horror  at  the  bowsprit  as  he  saw  it  rise  slowly 
upward  into  the  air,  and  clung  frantically  at  the  rail  as  it 
seemed  to  slip  away  from  beneath  him. 

"  We  are  always  in  the  hollow  of  God's  hand,"  he  whis- 
pered ;  "  but,  oh,  Adele,  it  is  a  dreadful  thing  to  feel  His 
fingers  moving  under  us." 

225 


"  Come  with  us,  uncle,"  said  de  Catinat,  passing  his  arm 
under  that  of  the  old  man.  "It  is  long  since  you  have 
rested.  And  you,  Adele,  I  pray  that  you  will  go  and  sleep, 
my  poor  darling,  for  it  has  been  a  weary  journey.  Go  now, 
to  please  me,  and  when  you  wake,  both  France  and  your 
troubles  will  lie  behind  you." 

When  father  and  daughter  had  left  the  deck,  de  Catinat 
made  his  way  aft  again  to  where  Amos  Green  and  the  cap- 
tain were  standing. 

"I  am  glad  to  get  them  below,  Amos,"  said  he,  "for  I 
fear  that  we  may  have  trouble  yet." 

"And  how?" 

"  You  see  the  white  road  which  runs  by  the  southern  bank 
of  the  river.  Twice  within  the  last  half-hour  I  have  seen 
horsemen  spurring  it  for  dear  life  along  it.  Where  the 
spires  and  smoke  are  yonder  is  Honfleur,  and  thither  it  was 
that  these  men  went.  I  know  not  who  would  ride  so  madly 
at  such  an  hour,  unless  they  were  the  messengers  of  the 
King.  Ah,  see,  there  is  a  third  one !" 

On  the  white  band  which  wound  among  the  green  meadows 
a  black  dot  could  be  seen,  which  moved  along  with  great 
rapidity,  vanished  behind  a  clump  of  trees,  and  then  reap- 
peared again,  making  for  the  distant  city.  Captain  Savage 
drew  out  his  glass  and  gazed  at  the  rider. 

"  Ay,  ay,"  said  he,  as  he  snapped  it  up  again.  "  It  is  a 
soldier,  sure  enough.  I  can  see  the  glint  of  the  scabbard 
which  he  carries  on  his  larboard  side.  I  think  that  we  shall 
have  more  wind  soon.  With  a  breeze  we  can  show  our 
heels  to  anything  in  French  waters,  but  a  galley  or  an  armed 
boat  would  overhaul  us  now." 

De  Catinat,  who,  though  he  could  speak  little  English, 
had  learned  in  America  to  understand  it  pretty  well,  looked 
anxiously  at  Amos  Green.  "  I  fear  that  we  shall  bring 
trouble  on  this  good  captain,"  said  he,  "  and  that  the  loss  of 
his  cargo  and  ship  may  be  his  reward  for  having  befriended 
us..  Ask  him  whether  he  would  not  prefer  to  land  us  on  the 
north  bank.  With  our  money  we  might  make  our  way  into 
the  Lowlands." 

Ephraim  Savage  looked  at  his  passenger  with  eyes  which 
226 


had  lost  something  of  their  sternness.  "  Young  man," 
said  he,  "  I  see  that  you  can  understand  somethin'  of  my 
talk." 

De  Catinat  nodded. 

"  I  tell  you,  then,  that  I  am  a  bad  man  to  beat.  Any 
man  that  was  ever  shipmate  with  me  would  tell  you  as 
much.  I  just  jam  my  helm,  and  keep  my  course  as  long  as 
God  will  let  me.  D'ye  see  ?" 

De  Catinat  again  nodded,  though,  in  truth,  the  seaman's 
metaphors  left  him  with  but  a  very  general  sense  of  his 
meaning. 

"We're  comin'  abreast  of  that  there  town,  and  in  ten 
minutes  we  shall  know  if  there  is  any  trouble  waitin'  for  us. 
But  I'll  tell  you  a  story  as  we  go  that  '11  show  you  what 
kind  o'  man  you've  shipped  with.  It  was  ten  years  ago  that 
I  speak  of,  when  I  was  in  the  Speedwell,  sixty-ton  brig,  trad- 
ing betwixt  Boston  and  Jamestown,  goin'  south,  with  lumber 
and  skins  and  fixin's,  d'ye  see,  and  north  again  with  to- 
bacco and  molasses.  One  night,  blowin1  half  a  gale  from 
the  south'ard,  we  ran  on  a  reef  two  miles  to  the  east  of 
Cape  May,  and  down  we  went  with  a  hole  in  our  bottom 
like  as  if  she'd  been  spitted  on  the  steeple  o'  one  of  them 
Honfleur  churches.  Well,  in  the  morning,  there  I  was 
washin'  about,  nigh  out  of  sight  of  land,  clingin'  on  to  half 
the  fore -yard,  without  a  sign  either  of  my  mates  or  of 
wreckage.  I  wasn't  so  cold,  for  it  was  early  fall,  and  I 
could  get  three  parts  of  my  body  on  to  the  spar,  but  I  was 
hungry  and  thirsty  and  bruised,  so  I  just  took  in  two  holes 
of  my  waist  belt,  and  put  up  a  hymn,  and  had  a  look  round 
for  what  I  could  see.  Well,  I  saw  more  than  I  cared  for. 
Within  five  paces  of  me  there  was  a  great  fish,  as  long 
pretty  nigh  as  the  spar  that  I  was  grippin'.  It's  a  mighty 
pleasant  thing  to  have  your  legs  in  the  water  and  a  beast 
like  that  all  ready  for  a  nibble  at  your  toes." 

"  Mon  Dieu  !"  cried  the  French  soldier.  "And  he  have 
not  eat  you  ?" 

Ephraim  Savage's  little  eyes  twinkled  at  the  reminis- 
cence. "  I  ate  him,"  said  he. 

"  What !"  cried  Amos. 

227 


"  It's  a  mortal  fact.  I'd  a  jack-knife  in  my  pocket,  same 
as  this  one,  and  I  kicked  my  legs  to  keep  the  brute  off,  and 
I  whittled  away  at  the  spar  until  I'd  got  a  good  jagged  bit 
off,  sharp  at  each  end,  same  as  a  nigger  told  me  once  down 
Delaware  way.  Then  I  waited  for  him,  and  stopped 
kicking,  so  he  came  at  me  like  a  hawk  on  a  chickadee. 
When  he  turned  up  his  belly,  I  jammed  my  left  hand  with 
the  wood  right  into  his  great  grinnin'  mouth,  and  I  let  him 
have  it  with  my  knife  between  the  gills.  He  tried  to 
break  away  then,  but  I  held  on,  d'ye  see,  though  he  took 
me  so  deep  that  I  thought  I'd  never  come  up  again.  I 
was  nigh  gone  when  we  got  to  the  surface,  but  he  was 
floatin'  with  the  white  up,  and  twenty  holes  in  his  shirt- 
front.  Then  I  got  back  to  my  spar,  for  we'd  gone  a  long 
fifty  fathoms  under  water,  and  when  I  reached  it  I  fainted 
dead  away." 

"  And  then  ?" 

"  Well,  when  I  came  to  it  was  calm,  and  there  was  the 
dead  shark  floatin'  beside  me.  I  paddled  my  spar  over  to 
him,  and  I  got  loose  a  few  yards  of  halyard  that  were 
hangin'  from  one  end  of  it.  I  made  a  clove-hitch  round 
his  tail,  d'ye  see,  and  got  the  end  of  it  slung  over  the  spar 
and  fastened,  so  as  I  couldn't  lose  him.  Then  I  set  to 
work  and  ate  him  in  a  week,  right  up  to  his  back  fin,  and  I 
drank  the  rain  that  fell  on  my  coat,  and  when  I  was  picked 
up  by  the  Grade,  of  Gloucester,  I  was  that  fat  that  I  could 
scarce  climb  aboard.  That's  what  Ephraim  Savage  means, 
my  lad,  when  he  says  that  he  is  a  baddish  man  to  beat." 

While  the:  Puritan  seaman  had  been  detailing  his  remi- 
niscence his  eyes  had  kept  wandering  from  the  clouds  to 
the  flopping  sails  and  back.  Such  wind  as  there  was  came 
in  little  short  puffs,  and  the  canvas  either  drew  full  or  was 
absolutely  slack.  The  fleecy  shreds  of  cloud  above,  how- 
ever, travelled  swiftly  across  the  blue  sky.  It  was  on  these 
that  the  captain  fixed  his  gaze,  and  he  watched  them  like 
a  man  who  is  working  out  a  problem  in  his  mind.  They 
were  abreast  of  Honfleur  now,  and  about  half  a  mile  out 
from  it.  Several  sloops  and  brigs  were  lying  there  in  a 
cluster,  and  a  whole  fleet  of  brown-sailed  fishing-boats  were 

228 


tacking  slowly  in.  Yet  all  was  quiet  on  the  curving  quay 
and  on  the  half -moon  fort,  over  which  floated  the  white 
flag  with  the  golden  fleurs-de-lis.  The  port  lay  on  their 
quarter  now,  and  they  were  drawing  away  more  quickly 
as  the  breeze  freshened.  De  Catinat,  glancing  back,  had 
almost  made  up  his  mind  that  their  fears  were  quite  ground- 
less, when  they  were  brought  back  in  an  instant,  and  more 
urgently  than  ever. 

Round  the  corner  of  the  mole  a  great  dark  boat  dashed 
into  view,  ringed  round  with  foam  from  her  flying  prow 
and  from  the  ten  pairs  *)f  oars  which  swung  from  either 
side  of  her.  A  dainty  white  ensign  drooped  over  her  stern, 
and  in  her  bows  the  sun's  light  was  caught  by  a  heavy 
brass  carronade.  She  was  packed  with  men,  and  the  gleam 
which  twinkled  every  now  and  again  from  among  them 
told  that  they  were  armed  to  the  teeth.  The  captain 
brought  his  glass  to  bear  upon  them  and  whistled.  Then 
he  glanced  up  at  the  clouds  once  more. 

"Thirty  men,"  said  he,  "and  they  go  three  paces  to  our 
two.  You,  sir,  take  your  blue  coat  off  this  deck  or  you'll 
bring  trouble  upon  us.  The  Lord  will  look  after  His  own 
if  they'll  only  keep  from  foolishness.  Get  these  hatches 
off,  Tomlinson.  So  !  Where's  Jim  Sturt  and  Hiram  Jef- 
ferson ?  Let  them  stand  by  to  clap  them  on  again  when  I 
whistle.  Starboard !  Starboard !  Keep  her  as  full  as 
she'll  draw.  Now,  Amos,  and  you,  Tomlinson,  come  here 
until  I  have  a  word  with  you." 

The  three  stood  in  consultation  upon  the  poop,  glancing 
back  at  their  pursuer.  There  could  be  no  doubt  that  the 
wind  was  freshening ;  it  blew  briskly  in  their  faces  as  they 
looked  back,  but  it  was  not  steady  yet,  and  the  boat  was 
rapidly  overhauling  them.  Already  they  could  see  the 
faces  of  the  marines  who  sat  in  the  stern,  and  the  gleam  of 
the  lighted  linstock  which  the  gunner  held  in  his  hand. 

"  Hola  !"  cried  an  officer,  in  excellent  English.  "  Lay 
her  to,  or  we  fire  !" 

"  Who  are  you  and  what  do  you  want  ?"  shouted  Ephraim 
Savage,  in  a  voice  that  might  have  been  heard  from  the 
bank. 

229 


"  We  come  in  the  King's  name,  and  we  want  a  party  of 
Huguenots  from  Paris  who  came  on  board  of  your  vessel 
at  Rouen." 

"Brace  back  the  fore-yard  and  lay  her  to  !"  shouted  the 
captain.  "  Drop  a  ladder  over  the  side  there  and  look 
smart.  So.  Now  we  are  ready  for  them." 

The  yard  was  swung  round,  and  the  vessel  lay  quietly 
rising  and  falling  on  the  waves.  The  boat  dashed  along- 
side, her  brass  cannon  trained  upon  the  brigantine  and  her 
squad  of  marines  with  their  fingers  upon  their  triggers 
ready  to  open  fire.  They  grinned  and  shrugged  their 
shoulders  when  they  saw  that  their  sole  opponents  were 
three  unarmed  men  upon  the  poop.  The  officer,  a  young 
active  fellow  with  a  bristling  mustache  like  the  whiskers  of 
a  cat,  was  on  deck  in  an  instant,  with  his  drawn  sword  in 
his  hand. 

'*  Come  up,  two  of  you  !"  he  cried.  "  You  stand  here  at 
the  head  of  the  ladder,  sergeant.  Throw  up  a  rope,  and 
you  can  fix  it  to  this  stanchion.  Keep  awake  down  there, 
and  be  all  ready  to  fire.  You  come  with  me,  Corporal 
Lemoine.  Who  is  captain  of  this  ship?" 

"  I  am,  sir,"  said  Ephraim  Savage,  submissively. 

"  You  have  three  Huguenots  aboard." 

"  Tut,  tut !  Huguenots,  are  they  ?  I  thought  they  were 
very  anxious  to  get  away,  but  as  long  as  they  paid  their 
passage,  it  was  no  business  of  mine.  An  old  man,  his 
young  daughter,  and  a  young  fellow  about  your  age  in 
some  sort  of  livery." 

"  In  uniform,  sir.  The  uniform  of  the  King's  guard. 
Those  are  the  folk  I  have  come  for." 

"  And  you  wish  to  take  them  back  ?" 

"  Most  certainly." 

"  Poor  folk ;  I  am  sorry  for  them." 

"  And  so  am  I,  but  orders  are  orders,  and  must  be 
done." 

"  Quite  so.  Well,  the  old  man  is  in  his  bunk  asleep,  the 
maid  is  in  a  cabin  below,  and  the  other  is  sleeping  down 
the  hold  there  where  we  had  to  put  him,  for  there  is  no 
room  elsewhere." 

230 


"  Sleeping,  you  say?     We  had  best  surprise  him." 

"  But  think  you  that  you  dare  do  it  alone  ?  He  has  no 
arms,  it  is  true,  but  he  is  a  well-grown  young  fellow.  Will 
you  not  have  twenty  men  up  from  the  boat  ?" 

Some  such  thought  had  passed  through  the  officer's 
head,  but  the  captain's  remark  put  him  upon  his  mettle. 

"  Come  with  me,  corporal,"  said  he.  "  Down  this  ladder, 
you  say  ?" 

"  Yes,  down  the  ladder  and  straight  on.  He  lies  between 
those  two  cloth  bales."  Ephraim  Savage  looked  up  with 
a  smile  playing  about  the  corners  of  his  grim  mouth.  The 
wind  was  whistling  now  in  the  rigging,  and  the  stays  of  the 
masts  were  humming  like  two  harp-strings.  Amos  Green 
lounged  beside  the  French  sergeant  who  guarded  the  end 
of  the  rope-ladder,  while  Tomlinson  the  mate  stood  with  a 
bucket  of  water  in  his  hand  exchanging  remarks  in  very 
bad  French  with  the  crew  of  the  boat  benaath  him. 

The  officer  made  his  way  slowly  down  the  ladder  which 
led  into  the  hold.  The  corporal  followed  him,  and  had  his 
chest  level  with  the  deck  when  the  other  had  reached  the 
bottom.  It  ma*y  have  been  something  in  Ephraim  Savage's 
face,  or  it  may  have  been  the  gloom  around  him,  which 
startled  the  young  Frenchman,  but  a  sudden  suspicion 
flashed  into  his  mind. 

"  Up  again,  corporal !"  he  shouted.  "  I  think  that  you  are 
best  at  the  top." 

"  And  I  think  that  you  are  best  down  below,  my  friend," 
said  the  Puritan,  who  gathered  the  officer's  meaning  from 
his  gesture.  Putting  the  sole  of  his  boot  against  the  man's 
chest,  he  gave  a  shove  which  sent  both  him  and  the  ladder 
crashing  down  on  to  the  officer  beneath  him.  As  he  did 
so  he  blew  his  whistle,  and  in  a  moment  the  hatch  was 
back  in  its  place  and  clamped  down  on  each  side  with  iron 
bars. 

The  sergeant  had  swung  round  at  the  sound  of  the 
crash,  but  Amos  Green,  who  had  waited  for  the  movement, 
threw  his  arms  round  him  and  hurled  him  overboard  into 
the  sea.  At  the  same  instant  the  connecting  rope  was  sev- 
ered, the  fore-yard  creaked  back  into  position  again,  and 

231 


the  bucketful  of  salt-water  soused  down  over  the  gunner 
and  his  gun,  putting  out  his  linstock  and  wetting  his  prim- 
ing. A  shower  of  balls  from  the  marines  piped  through 
the  air,  or  rapped  up  against  the  planks,  but  the  boat  was 
tossing  and  jerking  in  the  short  choppy  waves,  and  to  aim 
was  impossible.  In  vain  the  men  tugged  and  strained  at 
their  oars,  while  the  gunner  worked  like  a  maniac  to  re- 
light his  linstock  and  to  replace  his  priming.  The  boat 
had  lost  its  weigh,  while  the  brigantine  was  flying  along 
now  with  every  sail  bulging  and  swelling  to  bursting-point. 
Crack!  went  the  carronade  at  last,  and  five  little  slits  in 
the  mainsail  showed  that  her  charge  of  grape  had  flown 
high.  Her  second  shot  left  no  trace  behind  it,  and  at  the 
third  she  was  at  the  limit  of  her  range.  Half  an  hour 
afterwards  a  little  dark  dot  upon  the  horizon  with  a  golden 
speck  at  one  end  of  it  was  all  that  could  be  seen  of  the 
Honfleur  guard-boat.  Wider  and  wider  grew  the  low-lying 
shores ;  broader  and  broader  was  the  vast  spread  of  blue 
waters  ahead.  The  smoke  of  Havre  lay  like  a  little  cloud 
upon  the  northern  horizon,  and  Captain  Ephraim  Savage 
paced  his  deck  with  his  face  as  grim  as  "ever,  but  with  a 
dancing  light  in  his  gray  eyes. 

"  I  knew  that  the  Lord  would  look  after  His  own,"  said 
he,  complacently.  "We've  got  her  beak  straight  now,  and 
there's  not  so  much  as  a  dab  of  mud  betwixt  this  and  the 
three  hills  of  Boston.  You've  had  too  much  of  these  French 
wines  of  late,  Amos,  lad.  Come  down  and  try  a  real  Boston 
brewing,  with  a  double  stroke  of  malt  in  the  mash-tub." 

232 


CHAPTER  XXV 
A  BOAT  OF  THE  DEAD 

FOR  two  days  the  Golden  Rod  lay  becalmed  close  to  Cape 
La  Hague,  with  the  Breton  coast  extending  along  the  whole 
of  the  southern  horizon.  On  the  third  morning,  however, 
came  a  sharp  breeze,  and  they  drew  rapidly  away  from  land, 
until  it  was  but  a  vague  dim  line  which  blended  with  the 
cloud  banks.  Out  there  on  the  wide  free  ocean,  with  the 
wind  on  their  cheeks,  and  the  salt  spray  pringling  upon  their 
lips,  these  hunted  folk  might  well  throw  off  their  sorrows,  and 
believe  that  they  had  left  forever  behind  them  all  tokens  of 
those  strenuous  men  whose  earnest  piety  had  done  more 
harm  than  frivolity  and  wickedness  could  have  accomplished. 
And  yet  even  now  they  could  not  shake  off  their  traces,  for 
the  sin  of  the  cottage  is  bounded  by  the  cottage  door,  but 
that  of  the  palace  spreads  its  evil  over  land  and  sea. 

"I  am  frightened  about  my  father,  Amory,"  said  Adele, 
as  they  stood  together  by  the  shrouds  and  looked  back  at 
the  dim  cloud  upon  the  horizon  which  marked  the  position 
of  that  France  which  they  were  never  to  see  again. 

"  But  he  is  out  of  danger  now." 

"  Out  of  danger  from  cruel  laws,  but  I  fear  that  he  will 
never  see  the  promised  land." 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Adele  ?  My  uncle  is  hale  and 
hearty." 

"  Ah,  Amory,  his  very  heart  roots  were  fastened  in  the 
Rue  St.  Martin,  and  when  they  were  torn,  his  life  was  torn 
also.  Paris  and  his  business,  they  were  the  world  to  him." 

"  But  he  will  accustom  himself  to  this  new  life." 

"  If  it  only  could  be  so  !  But  I  fear,  I  fear  that  he  is 
over-old  for  such  a  change.  He  says  not  a  word  of  com- 

233 


plaint,  but  I  read  upon  his  face  that  he  is  stricken  to  the 
heart.  For  hours  together  he  will  gaze  back  at  France  with 
the  tears  running  down  his  cheeks.  And  his  hair  has  turned 
from  gray  to  white  within  the  week." 

De  Catinat  had  also  noticed  that  the  gaunt  old  Huguenot 
had  grown  gaunter,  that  the  lines  upon  his  stern  face  were 
deeper,  and  that  his  head  fell  forward  upon  his  breast  as  he 
walked.  He  was  about,  however,  to  suggest  that  the  voy- 
age might  restore  the  merchant's  health,  when  Adele  gave  a 
cry  of  surprise,  and  pointed  out  over  the  port-quarter.  So 
beautiful  was  she  at  the  instant,  with  her  raven  hair  blown 
back  by  the  wind,  a  glow  of  color  struck  into  her  pale  cheeks 
by  the  driving  spray,  her  lips  parted  in  her  excitement,  and 
one  white  hand  shading  her  eyes,  that  he  stood  beside  her 
with  all  his  thoughts  bent  upon  her  grace  and  her  sweetness. 

"  Look  !"  she  cried.  "  There  is  something  floating  upon 
the  sea.  I  saw  it  upon  the  crest  of  a  wave." 

He  looked  in  the  direction  in  which  she  pointed,  but  at 
first  he  saw  nothing.  The  wind  was  still  behind  them,  and 
a  brisk  sea  was  running  of  a  deep  rich  green  color,  with  long 
creaming,  curling  caps  to  the  larger  waves.  The  breeze 
would  catch  these  foam  crests  from  time  to  time,  and  then 
there  would  be  a  sharp  spatter  upon  the  decks,  with  a  salt 
smack  upon  the  lips,  and  a  pringling  in  the  eyes.  Sud- 
denly, as  he  gazed,  however,  something  black  was  tilted  up 
upon  the  sharp  summit  of  one  of  the  seas,  and  swooped  out 
of  view  again  upon  the  farther  side.  It  was  so  far  from  him 
that  he  could  make  nothing  of  it,  but  sharper  eyes  than  his 
had  caught  a  glance  of  it.  Amos  Green  had  seen  the  girl 
point,  and  observed  what  it  was  which  had  attracted  her  at- 
tention. 

"  Captain  Ephraim,"  said  he,  "  there's  a  boat  on  the  star- 
board quarter." 

The  New  England  seaman  whipped  up  his  glass  and  stead- 
ied it  upon  the  bulwark. 

"  Ay,  it's  a  boat,"  said  he,  "  but  an  empty  one.  Maybe 
it's  been  washed  off  from  some  ship,  or  gone  adrift  from 
shore.  Put  her  hard  down,  Mr.  Tomlinson,  for  it  just  so 
happens  that  I  am  in  need  of  a  boat  at  present." 

234 


Half  a  minute  later  the  Golden  Rod  had  swung  round  and 
was  running  swiftly  down  towards  the  black  spot  which  still 
bobbed  and  danced  upon  the  waves.  As  they  neared  her, 
they  could  see  that  something  was  projecting  over  her  side. 

"  It's  a  man's  head  !"  cried  Amos  Green. 

But  Ephraim's  grim  face  grew  grimmer.  "It's  a  man's 
foot,"  said  he.  "  I  think  that  you  had  best  take  the  gal  be- 
low to  the  cabin." 

Amid  a  solemn  hush  they  ran  alongside  this  lonely  craft 
which  hung  out  so  sinister  a  signal.  Within  ten  yards  of 
her  the  fore-yard  was  hauled  aback,  and  they  gazed  down 
upon  her  terrible  crew. 

She  was  a  little  thirteen-foot  cockle-shell,  very  broad  for  her 
length,  and  so  flat  in  the  bottom  that  she  had  been  meant 
evidently  for  river  or  lake  work.  Huddled  together  beneath 
the  seats  were  three  folk,  a  man  in  the  dress  of  a  respectable 
artisan,  a  woman  of  the  same  class,  and  a  little  child  about 
a  year  old.  The  boat  was  half  full  of  water,  and  the  woman 
and  child  were  stretched  with  their  faces  downward,  the 
fair  curls  of  the  infant  and  the  dark  locks  of  the  mother 
washing  to  and  fro  like  water-weeds  upon  the  surface.  The 
man  lay  with  a  slate-colored  face,  his  chin  cocking  up  tow- 
ards the  sky,  his  eyes  turned  upward  to  the  whites,  and 
his  mouth  wide  open,  showing  a  leathern  crinkled  tongue 
like  a  rotting  leaf.  In  the  bows,  all  huddled  in  a  heap,  and 
with  a  single  paddle  still  grasped  in  his  hand,  there  crouched 
a  very  small  man  clad  in  black,  an  open  book  lying  across 
his  face,  and  one  stiff  leg  jutting  upward,  with  the  heel 
of  the  foot  resting  between  the  rowlocks.  So  this  strange 
company  swooped  and  tossed  upon  the  long  green  Atlantic 
rollers. 

A  boat  had  been  lowered  by  the  Golden  Rod,  and  the  un- 
fortunates were  soon  conveyed  upon  deck.  No  particle  of 
either  food  or  drink  was  to  be  found,  nor  anything  save  the 
single  paddle,  and  the  open  Bible  which  lay  across  the  small 
man's  face.  Man,  woman,  and  child  had  all  been  dead  a 
day  at  the  least,  and  so,  with  the  short  prayers  used  upon 
the  seas,  they  were  buried  from  the  vessel's  side.  The 
small  man  had  at  first  seemed  also  to  be  lifeless,  but  Amos 

235 


had  detected  some  slight  flutter  of  his  heart,  and  the  faintest 
haze  was  left  upon  the  watch-glass  which  was  held  before 
his  mouth.  Wrapped  in  a  dry  blanket,  he  was  laid  beside 
the  mast,  and  the  mate  forced  a  few  drops  of  rum  every  few 
minutes  between  his  lips,  until  the  little  speck  of  life  which 
still  lingered  in  him  might  be  fanned  to  a  flame.  Mean- 
while Ephraim  Savage  had  ordered  up  the  two  prisoners 
whom  he  had  entrapped  at  Honfleur.  Very  foolish  they 
looked  as  they  stood  blinking  and  winking  in  the  daylight 
from  which  they  had  been  so  long  cut  off. 

"  Very  sorry,  captain,"  said  the  seaman,  "  but  either  you 
had  to  come  with  us,  d'ye  see,  or  we  had  to  stay  with  you. 
They're  waiting  for  me  over  at  Boston,  and  so  in  truth  I 
couldn't  tarry." 

The  French  soldier  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  looked 
around  him  with  a  lengthening  face.  He  and  his  corporal 
were  limp  with  sea-sickness,  and  as  miserable  as  a  French- 
man is  when  first  he  finds  that  France  has  vanished  from 
his  view. 

"Which  would  you  prefer,  to  go  on  with  us  to  America 
or  to  go  back  to  France  ?" 

"  Back  to  France  if  I  can  find  my  way.  Oh,  I  must  get 
to  France  again,  if  only  to  have  a  word  with  that  fool  of  a 
gunner." 

"  Well,  we  emptied  a  bucketful  of  water  over  his  linstock 
and  priming,  d'ye  see,  so  maybe  he  did  all  he  could.  But 
there's  France,  where  that  thickening  is  over  yonder." 

"  I  see  it !  I  see  it !  Ah,  if  my  feet  were  only  upon  it 
once  more." 

"  There  is  a  boat  beside  us,  and  you  may  take  it." 

"  My  God,  what  happiness !  Corporal  Lemoine,  the 
boat !  Let  us  push  off  at  once." 

"  But  you  need  a  few  things  first.  Good  Lord  !  who 
ever  heard  of  a  man  pushin'  off  like  that  ?  Mr.  Tomlinson, 
just  sling  a  keg  of  water  and  a  barrel  of  meat  and  of  bis- 
cuit into  this  boat.  Hiram  Jefferson,  bring  two  oars  aft. 
It's  a  long  pull  with  the  wind  in  your  teeth,  but  you'll  be 
there  by  to-morrow  night,  and  the  weather  is  set  fair." 

The  two  Frenchmen  were  soon  provided  with  all  that 
236 


they  were  likely  to  require,  and  pushed  off  with  a  waving 
of  hats  and  a  shouting  of  "  Bon  voyage  !"  l"he  yard  was 
swung  round  again,  and  the  Golden  Rod  turned  her  bow- 
sprit for  the  west.  For  hours  a  glimpse  could  be  caught 
of  the  boat,  dwindling  away  on  the  wave-tops,  until  at  last 
it  vanished  into  the  haze,  and  with  it  vanished  the  very 
last  link  which  connected  them  with  the  great  world  which 
they  were  leaving  behind  them. 

But  while  these  things  had  been  done,  the  senseless  man 
beneath  the  mast  had  twitched  his  eyelids,  had  drawn  a  lit- 
tle gasping  breath,  and  then  finally  had  opened  his  eyes. 
His  skin  was  like  gray  parchment  drawn  tightly  over  his 
bones,  and  the  limbs  which  thrust  out  from  his  clothes  were 
those  of  a  sickly  child.  Yet,  weak  as  he  was,  the  large 
black  eyes  with  which  he  looked  about  him  were  full  of 
dignity  and  power.  Old  Catinat  had  come  upon  deck, 
and  at  the  sight  of  the  man  and  of  his  dress  he  had  run 
forward,  and  had  raised  his  head  reverently  and  rested  it 
in  his  own  arms. 

"  He  is  one  of  the  faithful,"  he  cried  ;  u  he  is  one  of  our 
pastors.  Ah,  now  indeed  a  blessing  will  be  upon  our 
journey !" 

But  the  man  smiled  gently  and  shook  his  head.  "  I  fear 
that  I  may  not  come  this  journey  with  you,"  said  he,  "for 
the  Lord  has  called  me  upon  a  further  journey  of  my  own. 
I  have  had  my  summons,  and  I  am  ready.  I  am  indeed 
the  pastor  of  the  temple  at  Isigny,  and  when  we  heard  the 
orders  of  the  wicked  King  I  and  two  of  the  faithful,  with 
their  little  one,  put  forth  in  the  hope  that  we  might  come 
to  England.  But  on  the  first  day  there  came  a  wave  which 
swept  away  one  of  our  oars  and  all  that  was  in  the  boat, 
our  bread,  our  keg,  and  we  were  left  with  no  hope  save  in 
Him.  And  then  He  began  to  call  us  to  Him,  one  at  a  time, 
first  the  child  and  then  the  woman,  and  then  the  man, 
until  I  only  am  left,  though  I  feel  that  my  own  time  is 
not  long.  But  since  ye  are  also  of  the  faithful,  may  I  not 
serve  you  in  any  way  before  I  go  ?" 

The  merchant  shook  his  head,  and  then  suddenly  a 
thought  flashed  upon  him,  and  he  ran  with  joy  upon  his 

237 


face  and  whispered  eagerly  to  Amos  Green.  Amos  laughed, 
and  strode  across  to  the  captain. 

"  It's  time,"  said  Ephraim  Savage,  grimly. 

Then  the  whisperers  went  to  de  Catinat.  He  sprang  in 
the  air,  and  his  eyes  shone  with  delight.  And  then  they 
went  down  to  Adele  in  her  cabin,  and  she  started  and 
blushed,  and  turned  her  sweet  face  away,  and  patted  her 
hair  with  her  hands  as  woman  will  when  a  sudden  call  is 
made  upon  her.  And  so,  since  haste  was  needful,  and  since 
even  there  upon  the  lonely  sea  there  was  one  coining  who 
might  at  any  moment  snap  their  purpose,  they  found  them- 
selves in  a  few  minutes,  this  gallant  man  and  this  pure 
woman,  kneeling  hand  in  hand  before  the  dying  pastor,  who 
raised  his  thin  arm  feebly  in  benediction  as  he  muttered 
the  words  which  should  make  them  forever  one. 

Adele  had  often  pictured  her  wedding  to  herself,  as  what 
young  girl  has  not?  Often  in  her  dreams  she  had  knelt 
before  the  altar  with  Amory  in  the  temple  of  the  Rue  St. 
Martin.  Or  sometimes  her  fancy  had  taken  her  to  some 
of  those  smaller  churches  in  the  provinces,  those  little  ref- 
uges where  a  handful  of  believers  gathered  together,  and  it 
was  there  that  her  thoughts  had  placed  the  crowning  act  of 
a  woman's  life.  But  when  had  she  thought  of  such  a  mar- 
riage as  this,  with  the  white  deck  swaying  beneath  them, 
the  ropes  humming  above,  their  only  choristers  the  gulls 
which  screamed  around  them,  and  their  wedding  hymn  the 
world-old  anthem  which  is  struck  from  the  waves  by  the 
wind  !  And  when  could  she  forget  the  scene  —the  yellow 
masts  and  the  bellying  sails,  the  gray,  drawn  face  and  the 
cracked  lips  of  the  castaway,  her  father's  gaunt  earnest 
features  as  he  knelt  to  support  the  dying  minister,  de  Cati- 
nat in  his  blue  coat  already  faded  and  weather  -  stained, 
Captain  Savage  with  his  wooden  face  turned  towards  the 
clouds,  and  Amos  Green  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets  and 
a  quiet  twinkle  in  his  blue  eyes  !  Then,  behind  all,  the 
lanky  mate  and  the  little  group  of  New  England  seamen, 
with  their  palmetto  hats  and  their  serious  faces. 

And  so  it  was  done  amid  kindly  words  in  a  harsh  foreign 
tongue,  and  the  shaking  of  rude  hands  hardened  by  the 

238 


rope  and  the  oar.  De  Catinat  and  his  wife  leaned  together 
by  the  rail  when  all  was  over,  and  watched  the  black  side 
as  it  rose  and  fell,  and  the  green  water  which  raced  past 
them. 

"  It  is  all  so  strange  and  so  new,"  she  said ;  "  our  future 
seems  as  vague  and  dark  as  yonder  cloud  banks  which 
gather  in  front  of  us." 

"If  it  rest  with  me,"  he  answered,  " your  future  will  be 
as  merry  and  bright  as  the  sunlight  that  glints  on  the  crest 
of  these  waves.  The  country  that  drove  us  forth  lies  far 
behind  us,  but  out  there  is  another  and  a  fairer  country, 
and  every  breath  of  wind  wafts  us  nearer  to  it.  Freedom 
awaits  us  there,  and  we  bear  with  us  youth  and  love,  and 
what  could  man  or  woman  ask  for  more  ?" 

So  they  stood  and  talked  while  the  shadows  deepened 
into  twilight,  and  the  first  faint  gleam  of  the  stars  broke 
out  in  the  darkening  heavens  above  them.  But  ere  those 
stars  had  waned  again  one  more  toiler  had  found  rest 
aboard  of  the  Golden  Rod,  and  the  scattered  flock  from 
Isigny  had  found  their  little  pastor  once  more. 


CHAPTER   XXVI 
THE     LAST     PORT 

FOR  three  weeks  the  wind  kept  at  east  or  north-east,  al- 
ways at  a  brisk  breeze,  and  freshening  sometimes  into  half 
a  gale.  The  Golden  Rod  sped  merrily  upon  her  way,  with 
every  sail  drawing  alow  and  aloft,  so  that  by  the  end  of  the 
third  week  Amos  and  Ephraim  Savage  were  reckoning  out 
the  hours  before  they  would  look  upon  their  native  land 
once  more.  To  the  old  seaman,  who  was  used  to  meeting 
and  to  parting,  it  was  a  small  matter ;  but  Amos,  who  had 
never  been  away  before,  was  on  fire  with  impatience,  and 
would  sit  smoking  for  hours,  with  his  legs  astride  the  shank 
of  the  bowsprit,  staring  ahead  at  the  sky-line,  in  the  hope 
that  his  friend's  reckoning  had  been  wrong,  and  that  at  any 
moment  he  might  see  the  beloved  coast-line  looming  up  in 
front  of  him. 

"  It's  no  use,  lad,"  said  Captain  Ephraim,  laying  his  great 
red  hand  upon  his  shoulder.  "  They  that  go  down  to  the 
sea  in  ships  need  a  power  of  patience,  and  there's  no  good 
eatin'  your  heart  out  for  what  you  can't  get." 

"  There's  a  feel  of  home  about  the  air,  though,"  Amos 
answered.  "  It  seems  to  whistle  through  your  teeth  with  a 
bite  to  it  that  I  never  felt  over  yonder.  Ah,  it  will  take 
three  months  of  the  Mohawk  Valley  before  1  feel  myself 
to  rights  !" 

"Well,"  said  his  friend,  thrusting  a  plug  of  Trinidado 
tobacco  into  the  corner  of  his  cheek,  "  I've  been  on  the  sea 
since  I  had  hair  to  my  face,  mostly  in  the  coast  trade,  d'ye 
see,  but  over  the  water  as  well,  as  far  as  those  navigation 
laws  would  let  me.  Except  the  two  years  that  I  came 
ashore  for  the  King  Philip  business,  when  every  man  that 

240 


could  carry  a  gun  was  needed  on  the  border,  I've  never 
been  three  casts  of  a  biscuit  from  salt-water,  a*nd  I  tell  you 
that  I  never  knew  a  better  crossing  than  the  one  that  we 
have  just  made." 

"Ay,  we  have  come  along  like  a  buck  before  a  forest 
fire.  But  it  is  strange  to  me  how  you  find  your  way  so 
clearly  out  here,  with  never  track  nor  trail  to  guide  you.  It 
would  puzzle  me,  Ephraim,  to  find  America,  to  say  naught 
of  the  Narrows  of  New  YoYk." 

"I  am  somewhat  too  far  to  the  north,  Amos.  We  have 
been  on  or  about  the  fiftieth  since  we  sighted  Cape  La 
Hague.  To-morrow  we  should  make  land,  by  my  reckoning." 

"  Ah,  to-morrow  !  And  what  will  it  be — Mount  Desert  ? 
Cape  Cod  ?  Long  Island  ?" 

"  Nay,  lad ;  we  are  in  the  latitude  of  the  St.  Lawrence, 
and  are  more  likely  to  see  the  Acadia  coast.  Then,  with 
this  wind,  a  day  should  carry  us  south,  or  two  at  the  most. 
A  few  more  such  voyages,  and  I  shall  buy  myself  a  fair 
brick  house  in  Green  Lane  of  North  Boston,  where  I  can 
look  down  on  the  bay,  or  on  the  Charles  or  the  Mystic,  and 
see  the  ships  comin'  and  goin'.  So  I  would  end  my  life  in 
peace  and  quiet." 

All  day  Amos  Green,  in  spite  of  his  friend's  assurance, 
strained  his  eyes  in  the  fruitless  search  for  land  ;  and  when 
at  last  the  darkness  fell,  he  went  below  and  prepared  his 
fringed  hunting-tunic,  his  leather  gaiters,  and  his  raccoon- 
skin  cap,  which  were  very  much  more  to  his  taste  than  the 
broadcloth  coat  in  which  the  Dutch  mercer  of  New  York 
had  clad  him.  De  Catinat  had  also  put  on  the  dark  coat 
of  civil  life,  and  he  and  Adele  were  busy  preparing  all 
things  for  the  old  man,  who  had  fallen  so  weak  that  there 
was  little  which  he  could  do  for  himself.  A  fiddle  was 
screaming  in  the  forecastle,  and  half  the  night  through  hoarse 
bursts  of  homely  song  mingled  with  the  dash  of  the  waves 
and  the  whistle  of  the  wind,  as  the  New  England  men,  in 
their  own  grave  and  solid  fashion,  made  merry  over  their 
home-coming. 

The  mate's  watch  that  night  was  from  twelve  to  four,  and 
the  moon  was  shining  brightly  for  the  first  hour  of  it.  In  the 

241 


early  morning,  however,  it  clouded  over,  and  the  Golden 
Rod  plunged  into  one  of  those  dim  clammy  mists  which  lie 
on  all  that  tract  of  ocean.  So  thick  was  it  that  from  the 
poop  one  could  just  make  out  the  loom  of  the  foresail,  but 
could  see  nothing  of  the  foretopmast  stay-sail  or  the  jib. 
The  wind  was  north-east,  with  a  very  keen  edge  to  it,  and 
the  dainty  brigantine  lay  over,  scudding  along  with  her  lee 
rails  within  hand's-touch  of  the  water.  It  had  suddenly 
turned  very  cold — so  cold  that  the  mate  stamped  up  and 
down  the  poop,  and  his  four  seamen  shivered  together  un- 
der the  shelter  of  the  bulwarks.  And  then  in  a  moment 
one  of  them  was  up,  thrusting  his  forefinger  into  the  air  and 
screaming,  while  a  huge  white  wall  sprang  out  of  the  dark- 
ness at  the  very  end  of  the  bowsprit,  and  the  ship  struck 
with  a  force  which  snapped  her  two  masts  like  dried  reeds 
in  a  wind,  and  changed  her  in  an  instant  to  a  crushed  and 
shapeless  heap  of  spars  and  wreckage. 

The  mate  had  shot  the  length  of  the  poop  at  the  shock, 
and  had  narrowly  escaped  from  the  falling  mast,  while  of 
his  four  men  two  had  been  hurled  through  the  huge  gap 
which  yawned  in  the  bows,  while  a  third  had  dashed  his 
head  to  pieces  against  the  stock  of  the  anchor.  Tomlinson 
staggered  forward  to  find  the  whole  front  part  of  the  vessel 
driven  inwards,  and  a  single  seaman  sitting  dazed  amid 
splintered  spars,  flapping  sails,  and  writhing  lashing  cord- 
age. It  was  still  as  dark  as  pitch,  and  save  the  white  crest 
of  a  leaping  wave,  nothing  was  to  be  seen  beyond  the  side 
of  the  vessel.  The  mate  was  peering  round  him  in  despair 
at  the  ruin  which  had  come  so  suddenly  upon  them,  when 
he  found  Captain  Ephraim  at  his  elbow,  half  clad,  but  as 
wooden  and  serene  as  ever. 

"  An  iceberg,"  said  he,  sniffing  at  the  chill  air.  "  Did  you 
not  smell  it,  friend  Tomlinson  ?" 

"  Truly  I  found  it  cold,  Captain  Savage,  but  I  set  it  down 
to  the  mist." 

"  There  is  a  mist  ever  set  around  them,  though  the  Lord 
in  His  wisdom  knows  best  why,  for  it  is  a  sore  trial  to  poor 
sailor  men.  She  makes  water  fast,  Mr.  Tomlinson.  She 
is  down  by  the  bows  already." 

242 


The  other  watch  had  swarmed  upon  deck,  and  one  of 
them  was  measuring  the  well.  "There  is. .three  feet  of 
water,"  he  cried,  "  and  the  pumps  sucked  dry  yesterday  at 
sundown." 

"  Hiram  Jefferson  and  John  Moreton,  to  the  pumps !" 
cried  the  captain.  '•  Mr.  Tomlinson,  clear  away  the  long- 
boat, and  let  us  see  if  we  may  set  her  right,  though  I  fear 
that  she  is  past  mending." 

"  The  long-boat  has  stove  two  planks !"  cried  a  seaman. 

"  The  jolly-boat,  then  ?" 

"  She  is  in  three  pieces." 

The  mate  tore  his  hair,  but  Ephraim  Savage  smiled  like 
a  man  who  is  gently  tickled  by  some  coincidence. 

"  Where  is  Amos  Green  ?" 

"  Here,  Captain  Ephraim.     What  can  I  do  ?" 

"  And  I  ?"  asked  de  Catinat,  eagerly. 

Adele  and  her  father  had  been  wrapped  in  mantles,  and 
placed  for  shelter  in  the  lee  of  the  round-house. 

"  Tell  him  that  he  can  take  his  spell  at  the  pumps,"  said 
the  captain  to  Amos.  "  And  you,  Amos,  you  are  a  handy 
man  with  a  tool.  Get  into  yonder  long-boat  with  a  lantern, 
and  see  if  you  cannot  patch  her  up." 

For  half  an  hour  Amos  Green  hammered  and  trimmed 
and  calked,  while  the  sharp  measured  clanking  of  the  pumps 
sounded  above  the  dash  of  the  seas.  Slowly,  very  slowly, 
the  bows  of  the  brigantine  were  settling  down  and  her  stern 
cocking  up. 

"  You've  not  much  time,  Amos  lad,"  said  the  captain, 
quietly. 

"  She'll  float  now,  though  she's  not  quite  water-tight." 

"  Very  good.  Lower  away.  Keep  up  the  pumping  there. 
Mr.  Tomlinson,  see  that  provisions  and  water  are  ready,  as 
much  as  she  will  hold.  Come  with  me,  Hiram  Jefferson." 

The  seaman  and  the  captain  swung  themselves  down  into 
the  tossing  boat,  the  latter  with  a  lantern  strapped  to  his 
waist.  Together  they  made  their  way  until  they  were  un- 
der her  mangled  bows.  The  captain  shook  his  head  when 
he  saw  the  extent  of  the  damage.  "  Cut  away  the  foresail 
and  pass  it  over,"  said  he. 

243 


Tomlinson  and  Amos  Green  cut  away  the  lashings  with 
their  knives,  and  lowered  the  corner  of  the  sail.  Captain 
Ephraim  and  the  seaman  seized  it,  and  dragged  it  across 
the  mouth  of  the  huge  gaping  leak.  As  he  stooped  to  do 
.it,  however,  the  ship  heaved  up  upon  a  long  swell,  and  the 
captain  saw  in  the  yellow  light  of  his  lantern  sinuous  black 
cracks  which  radiated  away  backward  from  the  central 
hole.  "  How  much  in  the  well  ?"  he  asked. 

"  Five  and  a  half  feet." 

"  Then  the  ship  is  lost.  I  could  put  my  finger  between 
her  planks  as  far  as  I  can  see  back.  Keep  the  pumps  going 
there  !  Have  you  the  food  and  water,  Mr.  Tomlinson  ?" 

"  Here,  sir." 

"  Lower  them  over  the  bows.  This  boat  cannot  live  more 
than  an  hour  or  two.  Can  you  see  anything  of  the  berg  ?" 

The  mist  had  thinned  away  suddenly,  and  the  moon 
glimmered  through  once  more  upon  the  great  lonely  sea 
and  the  stricken  ship.  There,  like  a  huge  sail,  was  the  mon- 
ster piece  of  ice  upon  which  they  had  shattered  themselves, 
rocking  slowly  to  and  fro  with  the  wash  of  the  waves. 

"  You  must  make  for  her,"  said  Captain  Ephraim.  "  There 
is  no  other  chance.  Lower  the  gal  over  the  bows.  Well, 
then,  her  father  first,  if  she  likes  it  better.  Tell  them  to  sit 
still,  Amos,  and  that  the  Lord  will  bear  us  up  if  we  keep 
clear  of  foolishness.  So !  You're  a  brave  lass,  for  all  your 
niminy-piminy  lingo.  Now  the  keg  and  the  barrel,  and  all 
the  wraps  and  cloaks  you  can  find.  Now  the  other  man, 
the  Frenchman.  Ay,  ay  !  passengers  first,  and  you  have 
got  to  come.  Now,  Amos.  Now  the  seamen,  and  you  last, 
friend  Tomlinson." 

It  was  well  that  they  had  not  very  far  to  go,  for  the 
boat  was  weighed  down  almost  to  the  edge,  and  it  toolc  the 
bailing  of  two  men  to  keep  in  check  the  water  which 
leaked  in  between  the  shattered  planks.  When  all  were 
safely  in  their  places,  Captain  Ephraim  Savage  swung  him- 
self aboard  again,  which  was  but  too  easy,  now  that  every 
minute  brought  the  bows  nearer  to  the  water.  He  came 
back  with  a  bundle  of  clothing,  which  he  threw  into  the 
boat.  "  Push  off !"  he  cried. 

244 


"Jump  in,  then." 

"  Ephraim  Savage  goes  down  with  his  ship,"  said  he, 
quietly.  "  Friend  Tomlinson,  it  is  not  my  way  to  give  my 
orders  more  than  once.  Push  off,  I  say  !" 

The  mate  thrust  her  out  with  a  boat-hook.  Amos  Green 
and  de  Catinat  gave  a  cry  of  dismay,  but  the  solid  New 
Englanders  settled  down  to  their  oars,  and  pulled  off  for 
the  iceberg. 

"  Amos !  Amos !  will  you  suffer  it  ?"  cried  the  guards- 
man, in  French.  "  My  honor  will  not  permit  me  to  leave 
him  thus.  I  should  feel  it  a  stain  forever." 

"  Tomlinson,  you  would  not  leave  him  !  Go  on  board 
and  force  him  to  come." 

"  The  man  is  not  living  who  could  force  him  to  do  what 
he  had  no  mind  for." 

"  He  may  change  his  purpose." 

"  He  never  changes  his  purpose." 

"  But  you  cannot  leave  him,  man  !  You  must  at  least  lie 
by  and  pick  him  up." 

"The  boat  leaks  like  a  sieve,"  said  the  mate.  "I  will 
take  her  to  the  berg,  leave  you  all  there  if  we  can  find  foot- 
ing, and  go  back  for  the  captain.  Put  your  heart  into  it, 
my  lads,  for  the  sooner  we  are  there,  the  sooner  we  shall  be 
back." 

But  they  had  not  taken  fifty  strokes  before  A  dele  gave  a 
sudden  scream.  "  My  God  !"  she  cried,  "  the  ship  is  going 
down  !" 

She  had  settled  lower  and  lower  in  the  water,  and  sud- 
denly, with  a  sound  of  rending  planks,  she  thrust  down  her 
bows  like  a  diving  water-fowl,  her  stern  flew  up  into  the  air, 
and  with  a  long  sucking  noise  she  shot  down  swifter  and 
swifter,  until  the  leaping  waves  closed  over  her  high  poop 
lantern.  With  one  impulse  the  boat  swept  round  again, 
and  made  backward  as  fast  as  willing  arms  could  pull  it. 
But  all  was  quiet  at  the  scene  of  the  disaster.  Not  even  a 
fragment  of  wreckage  was  left  upon  the  surface  to  show 
where  the  Golden  Rod  had  found  her  last  harbor.  For  a 
long  quarter  of  an  hour  they  pulled  round  and  round  in  the 
moonlight,  but  no  glimpse  could  they  see  of  the  Puritan 

245 


seaman ;  and  at  last,  when,  in  spite  of  the  bailers,  the  water 
was  washing  round  their  ankles,  they  put  her  head  about 
once  more,  and  made  their  way  in  silence  and  with  heavy 
hearts  to  their  dreary  island  of  refuge. 

Desolate  as  it  was,  it  was  their  only  hope  now,  for  the 
leak  was  increasing,  and  it  was  evident  that  the  boat  could 
not  be  kept  afloat  long.  As  they  drew  nearer,  they  saw 
with  dismay  that  the  side  which  faced  them  was  a  solid 
wall  of  ice  sixty  feet  high,  without  a  flaw  or  crevice  in  its 
whole  extent.  The  berg  was  a  large  one,  fifty  paces  at 
least  each  way,  and  there  was  a  hope  that  the  other  side 
might  be  more  favorable.  Bailing  hard,  they  paddled 
around  the  corner,  but  only  to  find  themselves  faced  by 
another  gloomy  ice  crag.  Again  they  went  round,  and 
again  they  found  that  the  berg  increased  rather  than  di- 
minished in  height.  There  remained  only  one  other  side, 
and  they  knew,  as  they  rowed  round  to  it,  that  their  lives 
hung  upon  the  result,  for  the  boat  was  almost  settling  down 
beneath  them.  They  shot  out  from  the  shadow  into  the 
full  moonlight,  and  looked  upon  a  sight  which  none  of  them 
would  forget  until  their  dying  day. 

The  cliff  which  faced  them  was  as  precipitous  as  any  of 
the  others,  and  it  glimmered  and  sparkled  all  over  where 
the  silver  light  fell  upon  the  thousand  facets  of  ice.  Right 
in  the  centre,  however,  on  a  level  with  the  water's  edge, 
there  was  what  appeared  to  be  a  huge  hollowed-out  cave, 
which  marked  the  spot  where  the  Golden  Rod  had,  in  shat- 
tering herself,  dislodged  a  huge  bowlder,  and  so,  amid  her 
own  ruin,  prepared  a  refuge  for  those  who  had  trusted 
themselves  to  her.  This  cavern  was  of  the  richest  emerald 
green,  light  and  clear  at  the  edges,  but  toning  away  into 
the  deepest  purples  and  blues  at  the  back.  But  it  was  not 
the  beauty  of  this  grotto,  nor  was  it  the  assurance  of  rescue, 
which  brought  a  cry  of  joy  and  of  wonder  from  every  lip, 
but  it  was  that,  seated  upon  an  ice  bowlder  and  placidly 
smoking  a  long  corn-cob  pipe,  there  was  perched  in  front 
of  them  no  less  a  person  than  Captain  Ephraim  Savage,  of 
Boston.  For  a  moment  the  castaways  could  almost  have 
believed  that  it  was  his  wraith,  were  wraiths  ever  seen 

246 


in  so  homely  an  attitude,  but  the  tones  of  his  voice  very 
soon  showed  that  it  was  indeed  he,  and  in  ho  very  Chris- 
tian temper,  either. 

"  Friend  Tomlinson,"  said  he,  "  when  I  tell  you  to  row 
for  an  iceberg,  I  mean  you  to  row  right  away  there,  d'ye 
see,  and  not  to  go  philandering  about  over  the  ocean.  It's 
not  your  fault  that  I'm  not  froze,  and  so  I  would  have  been 
if  I  hadn't  some  dry  tobacco  and  my  tinder-box  to  keep 
myself  warm." 

Without  stopping  to  answer  his  commander's  reproaches, 
the  mate  headed  for  the  ledge,  which  had  been  cut  into  a 
slope  by  the  bow  of  the  bngantine,  so  that  the  boat  was 
run  up  easily  on  to  the  ice.  Captain  Ephraim  seized  his  dry 
clothes  and  vanished  into  the  back  of  the  cave,  to  return 
presently  warmer  in  body  and  more  contented  in  mind. 
The  long-boat  had  been  turned  upsidedown  for  a  seat,  the 
gratings  and  thwarts  taken  out  and  covered  with  wraps  to 
make  a  couch  for  the  lady,  and  the  head  knocked  out  of  the 
keg  of  biscuits. 

"We  were  frightened  for  you,  Ephraim,"  said  Amos 
Green.  "  I  had  a  heavy  heart  this  night  when  I  thought 
that  I  should  never  see  you  more." 

"  Tut,  Amos ;  you  should  have  known  me  better." 

"  But  how  came  you  here,  captain  ?"  asked  Tomlinson. 
"  I  thought  that  maybe  you  had  been  taken  down  by  the 
suck  of  the  ship." 

"And  so  I  was.  It  is  the  third  ship  in  which  I  have 
gone  down,  but  they  have  never  kept  me  down  yet.  I  went 
deeper  to-night  than  when  the  Speedwell  sank,  but  not  so 
deep  as  in  the  Governor  Winthrop.  When  I  came  up  I 
swam  to  the  berg,  found  this  nook,  and  crawled  in.  Glad 
I  was  to  see  you,  for  I  feared  that  you  had  foundered." 

"  We  put  back  to  pick  you  up,  and  we  passed  you  in  the 
darkness.  And  what  should  we  do  now?" 

"  Rig  up  that  boat  sail  and  make  quarters  for  the  gal, 
then  get  our  supper  and  such  rest  as  we  can,  for  there  is 
nothing  to  be  done  to-night,  and  there  may  be  much  in  the 
morning." 

247 


CHAPTER  XXVII 
A    DWINDLING    ISLAND 

AMOS  GREEN  was  aroused  in  the  morning  by  a  hand  upon 
his  shoulder,  and,  springing  to  his  feet,  found  de  Catinat 
standing  beside  him.  The  survivors  of  the  crew  were 
grouped  about  the  upturned  boat,  slumbering  heavily  after 
their  labors  of  the  night.  The  red  rim  of  the  sun  had  just 
pushed  itself  above  the  water-line,  and  sky  and  sea  were 
one  blaze  of  scarlet  and  orange,  from  the  dazzling  gold 'of 
the  horizon  to  the  lightest  pink  at  the  zenith.  The  first 
rays  flashed  directly  into  their  cave,  sparkling  and  glim- 
mering upon  the  ice  crystals  and  tinging  the  whole  grotto 
with  a  rich  warm  light.  Never  was  a  fairy's  palace  more 
lovely  than  this  floating  refuge  which  nature  had  provided 
for  them. 

But  neither  the  American  nor  the  Frenchman  had  time 
now  to  give  a  thought  to  the  novelty  and  beauty  of  their 
situation.  The  latter's  face  was  grave,  and  his  friend  read 
danger  in  his  eyes. 

"  What  is  it,  then  ?" 

"The  berg.     It  is  coming  to  pieces." 

"Tut,  man !  it  is  as  solid  as  an  island." 

"I  have  been  watching  it.  You  see  that  crack  which 
extends  backward  from  the  end  of  our  grotto  ?  Two  hours 
ago  I  could  scarce  put  my  hand  into  it.  Now  I  can  slip 
through  it  with  ease.  I  tell  you  that  she  is  splitting 
across  " 

Amos  Green  walked  to  the  end  of  the  funnel-shaped  re- 
cess, and  found,  as  his  friend  had  said,  that  a  green  sinu- 
ous crack  extended  away  backward  into  the  iceberg,  caused 
either  by  the  tossing  of  the  waves  or  by  the  terrific  impact 

24b 


of  their  vessel.  He  roused  Captain  Ephraim  and  pointed 
out  the  danger  to  him. 

"Well,  if  she  springs  a  leak  we  are  gone,"  said  he. 
'*  She's  been  thawing  pretty  fast  as  it  is." 

They  could  see  now  that  what  had  seemed  in  the  moon- 
light to  be  smooth  walls  of  ice  were  really  furrowed  and 
wrinkled  like  an  old  man's  face  by  the  streams  from  the 
melting  ice  which  were  continually  running  down  them. 
The  whole  huge  mass  was  brittle  and  honey-combed  and 
rotten.  Already  they  could  hear  all  round  them  the  omi- 
nous drip,  drip,  and  the  splash  and  tinkle  of  the  little  rivu- 
lets as  they  fell  into  the  ocean. 

"Hullo  !"  cried  Amos  Green,  "what's  that?" 

"What,  then?" 

"  Did  you  hear  nothing  ?" 

"No." 

"  I  could  have  sworn  that  I  heard  a  voice." 

"  Impossible.     We  are  all  here." 

"  It  must  have  been  my  fancy,  then." 

Captain  Ephraim  walked  to  the  seaward  face  of  the  cave 
and  swept  the  ocean  with  his  eyes.  The  wind  had  quite 
fallen  away  now,  and  the  sea  stretched  away  to  the  east- 
ward smooth  and  unbroken  save  for  a  single  great  black 
spar  which  floated  near  the  spot  where  the  Golden  Rod  had 
foundered. 

"  We  should  lie  in  the  track  of  some  ships,"  said  the  cap- 
tain, thoughtfully.  "  There's  the  codders  and  the  herring- 
busses;  we're  over- far  south  for  them,  I  reckon.  But  we 
can't  be  more'n  two  hundred  mile  from  Port  Royal,  in 
Acadia,  and  we're  in  the  line  of  the  St.  Lawrence  trade. 
If  I'd  three  White  Mountain  pines,  Amos,  and  a  hundred 
yards  of  stout  canvas,  I'd  get  up  on  the  top  of  this  thing, 
d'ye  see,  and  I'd  rig  such  a  jury-mast  as  would  send  her 
humming  into  Boston  Bay.  Then  I'd  break  her  up  and  sell 
her  for  what  she  was  worth,  and  turn  a  few  pieces  over  the 
business.  But  she's  a  heavy  old  craft,  and  that's  a  fact, 
though  even  now  she  might  do  a  knot  or  two  an  hour  if  she 
had  a  hurricane  behind  her.  But  what  is  it,  Amos  ?" 

The  young  hunter  was  standing  with  his  ear  slanting,  his 

249 


head  bent  forward,  and  his  eyes  glancing  sidewise,  like  a 
man  who  listens  intently.  He  was  about  to  answer,  when 
de  Catinat  gave  a  cry  and  pointed  to  the  back  of  the  cave. 

"  Look  at  the  crack  now  !" 

It  had  widened  by  a  foot  since  they  had  noticed  it  last, 
until  it  was  now  no  longer  a  crack.  It  was  a  pass. 

"  Let  us  go  through,"  said  the  captain. 

"  It  can  but  come  out  on  the  other  side." 

"  Then  let  us  see  the  other  side." 

He  led  the  way,  and  the  other  two  followed  him.  It  was 
very  dark  as  they  advanced,  with  high  dripping  ice  walls 
on  either  side,  and  one  little  zigzagging  slit  of  blue  sky 
above  their  heads.  Tripping  and  groping  their  way,  they 
stumbled  along,  until  suddenly  the  passage  grew  wider  and 
opened  out  into  a  large  square  of  flat  ice.  The  berg  was 
level  in  the  centre,  and  sloped  upward  from  that  point  to 
the  high  cliffs  which  bounded  it  on  each  side.  In  three 
directions  this  slope  was  very  steep,  but  in  one  it  slanted 
up  quite  gradually,  and  the  constant  thawing  had  grooved 
the  surface  with  a  thousand  irregularities  by  which  an  ac- 
tive man  could  ascend.  With  one  impulse  they  began  all 
three  to  clamber  up,  until,  a  minute  later,  they  were  stand- 
ing not  far  from  the  edge  of  the  summit,  seventy  feet  above 
the  sea,  with  a  view  which  took  in  a  good  fifty  miles  of 
water.  In  all  that  fifty  miles  there  was  no  sign  of  life, 
nothing  but  the  endless  glint  of  the  sun  upon  the  waves. 

Captain  Ephraim  whistled.  "  We  are  out  of  luck,"  said 
he. 

Amos  Green  looked  about  him  with  startled  eyes.  "  I 
cannot  understand  it,"  said  he.  "  I  could  have  sworn — by 
the  Eternal,  listen  to  that !" 

The  clear  call  of  a  military  bugle  rang  out  in  the  morning 
air.  With  a  cry  of  amazement,  they  all  three  craned  for- 
ward and  peered  over  the  edge. 

A  large  ship  was  lying  under  the  very  shadow  of  the  ice- 
berg. They  looked  straight  down  upon  her  snow-white 
decks,  fringed  with  shining  brass  cannon,  and  dotted  with 
seamen.  A  little  clump  of  soldiers  stood  upon  the  poop, 
going  through  the  manual  exercise,  and  it  was  from  them 

250 


that  the  call  had  come  which  had  sounded  so  unexpectedly 
in  the  ears  of  the  castaways.  Standing  back  from  the  edge, 
they  had  not  only  looked  over  the  topmasts  of  this  welcome 
neighbor,  but  they  had  themselves  been  invisible  from  her 
decks.  Now  the  discovery  was  mutual,  as  was  shown  by  a 
chorus  of  shouts  and  cries  from  beneath  them. 

But  the  three  did  not  wait  an  instant.  Sliding  and 
scrambling  down  the  slippery  incline,  they  rushed,  shouting, 
through  the  crack  and  into  the  cave,  where  their  comrades 
had  just  been  startled  by  the  bugle  call  while  in  the  middle 
of  their  cheerless  breakfast.  A  few  hurried  words,  and  the 
leaky  long-boat  had  been  launched,  their  few  possessions 
had  been  bundled  in,  and  they  were  afloat  once  more. 
Pulling  round  a  promontory  of  the  berg  they  found  them- 
selves under  the  stern  of  a  fine  corvette,  the  sides  of  which 
were  lined  with  friendly  faces,  while  from  the  peak  there 
drooped  a  huge  white  banner  mottled  over  with  the  golden 
lilies  of  France.  In  a  very  few  minutes  their  boat  had  been 
hauled  up,  and  they  found  themselves  *on  board  of  the  St. 
Christophe  man-of-war,  conveying  Marquis  de  Denonville, 
the  Governor-General  of  Canada,  to  take  ever  his  new  duties. 


CHAPTER    XXVIII 
IN   THE   POOL   OF   QUEBEC 

A  SINGULAR  colony  it  was  of  which  the  shipwrecked  party 
found  themselves  now  to  be  members.  The  St.  Christophe 
had  left  Rochelle  three  weeks  before,  with  four  small  con- 
sorts conveying  five  hundred  soldiers  to  help  the  straggling 
colony  on  the  St.  Lawrence.  The  squadron  had  become 
separated,  however,  and  the  Governor  was  pursuing  his  way 
alone,  in  the  hope  of  picking  up  the  others  in  the  river. 
Aboard  he  had  a  company  of  the  regiment  of  Quercy ;  the 
staff  of  his  own  household  ;  St.  Vallier,  the  new  Bishop  of 
Canada,  with  several  of  his  attendants ;  three  Recollet 
friars,  five  Jesuits  bound  for  the  fatal  Iroquois  mission,  half 
a  dozen  ladies  on  the  way  to  join  their  husbands,  two  Ur- 
suline  nuns,  ten  or  twelve  gallants  whom  love  of  adventure 
and  the  hope  of  bettering  their  fortunes  had  drawn  across 
the  seas,  and,  lastly,  some  twenty  peasant  maidens  of  Anjou, 
who  were  secure  of  finding  husbands  waiting  for  them 
upon  the  beach,  if  only  for  the  sake  of  the  sheets,  the 
pot,  the  tin  plates,  and  the  kettle  which  the  King  would 
provide  for  each  of  his  humble  wards. 

To  add  a  handful  of  New  England  Independents,  a  Puri- 
tan of  Boston,  and  three  Huguenots  to  such  a  gathering 
was  indeed  to  bring  firebrand  and  powder-barrel  together. 
And  yet  all  aboard  were  so  busy  with  their  own  concerns 
that  the  castaways  were  left  very  much  to  themselves. 
Thirty  of  the  soldiers  were  down  with  fever  and  scurvy,  and 
both  priests  and  nuns  were  fully  taken  up  in  nursing  them. 
Denonville,  the  Governor,  a  pious-minded  dragoon,  walked 
the  deck  all  day  reading  the  psalms  of  David,  and  sat  up 
half  the  night  with  maps  and  charts  laid  out  before  him. 

252 


planning  out  the  destruction  of  the  Iroquois  who  were  rav- 
aging his  dominions.  The  gallants  and  the  ladies  flirted, 
the  maidens  of  Anjou  made  eyes  at  the  soldiers  of  Quercy, 
and  the  bishop,  St.  Vallier,  read  his  offices  and  lectured  his 
clergy.  Ephraim  Savage  used  to  stand  all  day  glaring  at 
the  good  man  as  he  paced  the  deck  with  his  red-edged  mis- 
sal in  his  hand,  and  muttering  about  the  "abomination  of 
desolation,"  but  his  little  ways  were  put  down  to  his  ex- 
posure on  the  iceberg,  and  to  the  fixed  idea  in  the  French 
mind  that  men  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  stock  are  not  to  be  held 
accountable  for  their  actions. 

There  was  "peace  between  England  and  France  at  present, 
though  feeling  ran  high  between  Canada  and  New  York, 
the  French  believing,  and  with  some  justice,  that  the  Eng- 
lish colonists  were  whooping  on  the  demons  who  attacked 
them.  Ephraim  and  his  men  were  therefore  received  hospi- 
tably on  board,  though  the  ship  was  so  crowded  that  they 
had  to  sleep  wherever  they  could  find  cover  and  space  for 
their  bodies.  The  Catinats,  too,  had  been  treated  in  an 
even  more  kindly  fashion,  the  weak  old  man  and  the  beauty 
of  his  daughter  arousing  the  interest  of  the  Governor  him- 
self. De  Catinat  had  during  the  voyage  exchanged  his 
uniform  for  a  plain  sombre  suit,  so  that  except  for  his  mili- 
tary bearing  there  was  nothing  to  show  that  he  was  a  fugi- 
tive from  the  army.  Old  Catinat  was  now  so  weak  that  he 
was  past  the  answering  of  questions,  his  daughter  was  for- 
ever at  his  side,  and  the  soldier  was  diplomatist  enough, 
after  a  training  at  Versailles,  to  say  much  without  saying 
anything,  and  so  their  secret  was  still  preserved.  De  Cati- 
nat had  known  what  it  was  to  be  a  Huguenot  in  Canada  be- 
fore the  law  was  altered.  He  had  no  wish  to  try  it  after. 

On  the  day  after  the  rescue  they  sighted  Cape  Breton  in 
the  south,  and  soon,  running  swiftly  before  an  easterly  wind, 
saw  the  loom  of  the  east  end  of  Anticosti.  Then  they  sailed 
up  the  mighty  river,  though  from  mid-channel  the  banks  on 
either  side  were  hardly  to  be  seen.  As  the  shores  narrowed 
in,  they  saw  the  wild  gorge  of  the  Saguenay  River  upon  the 
right,  with  the  smoke  from  the  little  fishing  and  trading  sta- 
tion of  Tadousac  streaming  up  above  the  pine-trees.  Naked 

253 


Indians,  with  their  faces  daubed  with  red  clay,  Algonquins 
and  Abenakis,  clustered  round  the  ship  in  their  birchen 
canoes  with  fruit  and  vegetables  from  the  land,  which 
brought  fresh  life  to  the  scurvy-stricken  soldiers.  Thence  the 
ship  tacked  on  up  the  river,  past  Mai  Baie.  The  ravine  of 
the  Eboulemens  and  the  bay  of  St.  Paul,  with  its  broad  val- 
ley and  wooded  mountains,  all  in  a  blaze  with  their  beauti- 
ful autumn  dress — the  scarlets,  the  purples,  and  the  golds — 
from  the  maple,  the  ash,  the  young  oak,  and  the  saplings  of 
the  birch.  Amos  Green,  leaning  on  the  bulwarks,  stared 
with  longing  eyes  at  these  vast  expanses  of  virgin  woodland, 
hardly  traversed  save  by  an  occasional  wandering  savage  or 
hardy  coureur  de  bois.  Then  the  bold  outline  of  Cape  Tour- 
mente  loomed  up  in  front  of  them,  they  passed  the  rich 
placid  meadows  of  Laval's  seigneury  of  Beaupre,  and  skirt- 
ing the  settlements  of  the  island  of  Orleans,  they  saw  the 
broad  pool  stretched  out  in  front  of  them  —  the  falls  of 
Montmorenci,  the  high  palisades  of  Point  Levi,  the  cluster 
of  vessels,  and  upon  the  right  that  wonderful  rock,  with  its 
diadem  of  towers,  and  its  township  huddled  round  its  base, 
the  centre  and  stronghold  of  French  power  in  America. 
Cannon  thundered  from  the  bastions  above,  and  were  echoed 
back  by  the  war-ship,  while  ensigns  dipped,  hats  waved,  and 
a  swarm  of  boats  and  canoes  shot  out  to  welcome  the  new 
Governor,  and  to  convey  the  soldiers  and  passengers  to  shore. 

The  old  merchant  had  pined  away  since  he  had  left 
French  soil,  like  a  plant  which  has  been  plucked  from  its 
roots.  The  shock  of  the  shipwreck  and  the  night  spent  in 
their  bleak  refuge  upon  the  iceberg  had  been  too  much  for 
his  years  and  strength. 

Since  they  had  been  picked  up,  he  had  lain  amid  the 
scurvy-stricken  soldiers,  with  hardly  a  sign  of  life  save  for 
his  thin  breathing,  and  the  twitching  of  his  scraggy  throat. 
Now,  however,  at  the  sound  of  the  cannon  and  the  shouting, 
he  opened  his  eyes,  and  raised  himself  slowly  and  painfully 
upon  his  elbow. 

"  What  is  it,  father  ?  What  can  we  do  for  you  ?"  cried 
Adele.  "  We  are  in  America,  and  here  is  Amory  and  here 
am  I,  your  children." 

254 


But  the  old  man  shook  his  head.  "  The  Lord  has  brought 
me  to  the  promised  land,  but  He  has  not  willed'that  I  should 
enter  into  it,"  said  he.  "  May  His  will  be  done,  and  blessed 
be  His  name  forever !  But  at  least  I  should  wish,  like 
Moses,  to  gaze  upon  it,  if  I  cannot  set  foot  upon  it.  Think 
you,  Amory,  that  you  could  lend  me  your  arm  and  lead  me 
on  to  the  deck  ?" 

"  If  I  have  another  to  help  me,"  said  de  Catinat ;  and 
ascending  to  the  deck,  he  brought  Amos  Green  back  with 
him.  "  Now,  father,  if  you  will  lay  a  hand  on  the  shoulder 
of  each,  you  need  scarce  put  your  feet  to  the  boards." 

A  minute  later  the  old  merchant  was  on  deck,  and  the 
two  young  men  had  seated  him  upon  a  coil  of  rope'with  his 
back  against  the  mast,  where  he  should  be  away  from  the 
crush.  The  soldiers  were  already  crowding  down  into  the 
boats,  and  all  were  so  busy  over  their  own  affairs  that  they 
paid  no  heed  to  the  little  group  of  refugees  who  had  gath- 
ered round  the  stricken  man.  He  turned  his  head  pain- 
fully from  side  to  side,  but  his  eyes  brightened  as  they  fell 
upon  the  bright  blue  stretch  of  water,  the  flash  of  the  dis- 
tant falls,  the  high  castle,  and  the  long  line  of  purple 
mountains  away  to  the  north-west. 

"  It  is  not  like  France,"  said  he.  "  It  is  not  green  and 
peaceful  and  smiling,  but  it  is  grand  and  strong  and  stern 
like  Him  who  made  it.  As  I  have  weakened,  Adele,  my 
soul  has  been  less  clogged  by  my  body,  and  I  have  seen 
clearly  much  that  has  been  dim  to  me.  And  it  has  seemed 
to  me,  my  children,  that  all  this  country  of  America — not 
Canada  alone,  but  the  land  where  you  were  born  also,  Amos 
Green,  and  all  that  stretches  away  towards  yonder  setting 
sun — wiH  be  the  best  gift  of  God  to  man.  For  this  has  He 
held  it  concealed  through  all  the  ages,  that  now  His  own 
high  purpose  may  be  wrought  upon  it.  For  here  is  a  land 
which  is  innocent,  which  has  no  past  guilt  to  atone  for,  no 
feud,  nor  ill  custom,  nor  evil  of  any  kind.  And  as  the  years 
roll  on,  all  the  weary  and  homeless  ones,  all  who  are  stricken 
and  landless  and  wronged,  will  turn  their  faces  to  it,  even 
as  we  have  done.  And  hence  will  come  a  nation  which  will 
surely  take  all  that  is  good  and  leave  all  that  is  bad,  mould- 

255 


ing  and  fashioning  itself  into  the  highest.  Do  I  not  see 
such  a  mighty  people — a  people  who  will  care  more  to  raise 
their  lowest  than  to  exalt  their  richest,  who  will  understand 
that  there  is  more  bravery  in  peace  than  in  war,  who  will 
see  that  all  men  are  brothers,  and  whose  hearts  will  not  nar- 
row themselves  down  to  their  own  frontiers,  but  will  warm 
in  sympathy  with  every  noble  cause  the  whole  world  through. 
That  is  what  I  see,  Adele,  as  I  lie  here  beside  a  shore  upon 
which  I  shall  never  set  my  feet,  and  I  say  to  you  that  if  you 
and  Amory  go  to  the  building  of  such  a  nation,  then  indeed 
your  lives  are  not  misspent.  It  will  come,  and  when  it  comes 
may  God  guard  it,  may  God  watch  over  it  and  direct  it !'' 
His  head  had  sunk  gradually  lower  upon  his  breast,  and 
his  lids  had  fallen  slowly  over  his  eyes,  which  had  been 
looking  away  out  past  Point  Levi  at  the  rolling  woods  and 
the  far-off  mountains.  Adele  gave  a  quick  cry  of  despair, 
and  threw  her  arms  round  the  old  man's  neck. 

"  He  is  dying,  Amory — he  is  dying  !"  she  cried. 

A  stern  Franciscan  friar,  who  had  been  telling  his  beads 
within  a  few  paces  of  them,  heard  the  cry,  and  was  beside 
them  in  an  instant. 

"  He  is  indeed  dying,"  he  said,  as  he  gazed  down  at  the 
ashen  face.  "  Has  the  old  man  had  the  sacraments  of  the 
Church  ?" 

"I  do  not  think  that  he  needs  them,"  answered  de  Cati- 
nat,  evasively. 

"  Which  of  us  does  not  need  them,  young  man  ?"  said  the 
friar,  sternly.  <k  And  how  can  a  man  hope  for  salvation  with- 
out them  ?  I  shall  myself  administer  them  without  delay." 

But  the  old  Huguenot  had  opened  his  eyes,  and  with  a 
last  flicker  of  strength  he  pushed  away  the  gray- hooded 
figure  which  bent  over  him. 

"  I  left  all  that  I  love  rather  than  yield  to  you,"  he  cried, 
"  and  think  you  that  you  can  overcome  me  now  ?" 

The  Franciscan  started  back  at  the  words,  and  his  hard 
suspicious  eyes  shot  from  de  Catinat  to  the  weeping  girl. 

"  So  !"  said  he,     "  You  are  Huguenots,  then  !" 

"  Hush  !  Do  not  wrangle  before  a  man  who  is  dying  !" 
cried  de  Catinat,  in  a  voice  as  fierce  as  his  own. 

256 


"  Before  a  man  who  is  dead,"  said  Amos  Green,  sol- 
emnly. 

As  he  spoke,  the  old  man's  face  had  relaxed,  his  thousand 
wrinkles  had  been  smoothed  suddenly  out  as  though  an  in- 
visible hand  had  passed  over  them,  and  his  head  fell  back 
against  the  mast.  Adele  remained  motionless,  with  her  arms 
still  clasped  round  his  neck  and  her  cheek  pressed  against 
his  shoulder.  She  had  fainted. 

De  Catinat  raised  his  wife  and  bore  her  down  to  the  cabin 
of  one  of  the  ladies  who  had  already  shown  them  some  kind- 
ness. Deaths  were  no  new  thing  aboard  the  ship,  for  they 
had  lost  ten  soldiers  upon  the  outward  passage,  so  that  amid 
the  joy  and  bustle  of  the  disembarking  there  were  few  who 
had  a  thought  to  spare  upon  the  dead  pilgrim,  and  the  less 
so  when  it  had  been  whispered  abroad  that  he  had  been  a 
Huguenot.  A  brief  order  was  given  that  he  should  be 
buried  in  the  river  that  night,  and  then,  save  for  a  sail-maker 
who  fastened  the  canvas  round  him,  mankind  had  done  its 
last  for  Theophile  Catinat.  With  the  survivors,  however,  it 
was  different,  and  when  the  troops  were  all  disembarked, 
they  were  mustered  in  a  little  group  upon  the  deck,  and  an 
officer  of  the  Governor's  suite  decided  upon  what  should  be 
done  with  them.  He  was  a  portly,  good-humored,  ruddy- 
cheeked  man,  but  de  Catinat  saw  with  apprehension  that 
the  Franciscan  friar  walked  by  his  side  as  he  advanced  along 
the  deck,  and  exchanged  a  few  whispered  remarks  with  him. 
There  was  a  bitter  smile  upon  the  monk's  dark  face  which 
boded  little  good  for  the  heretics. 

"  It  shall  be  seen  to,  good  father,  it  shall  be  seen  to,"  said 
the  officer,  impatiently,  in  answer  to  one  of  these  whispered 
injunctions.  "  I  am  as  zealous  a  servant  of  Holy  Church 
as  you  are." 

"  I  trust  that  you  are,  Monsieur  de  Bonneville.  With  so 
devout  a  Governor  as  Monsieur  de  Denonville,  it  might  be 
an  ill  thing,  even  in  this  world,  for  the  officers  of  his  house- 
hold to  be  lax." 

The  soldier  glanced  angrily  at  his  companion,  for  he  saw 
the  threat  which  lurked  under  the  words. 

"  I  would  have  you  remember,  father,"  said  he,  "  that  if 
257 


faith  is  a  virtue,  chanty  is  no  less  so."  Then,  speaking  in 
English,  "  Which  is  Captain  Savage  ?" 

"  Ephraim  Savage,  of  Boston." 

"  And  Master  Amos  Green  ?" 

"  Amos  Green,  of  New  York." 

"  And  Master  Tomlinson  ?" 

"John  Tomlinson,  of  Salem." 

"  And  master-mariners  Hiram  Jefferson,  Joseph  Cooper, 
Seek-Grace  Spaulding,  and  Paul  Gushing,  all  of  Massachu- 
setts Bay." 

"  We  are  here." 

"  It  is  the  Governor's  orders  that  all  whom  I  have  named 
shall  be  conveyed  at  once  to  the  trading  brig  Hope,  which 
is  yonder  ship  with  the  white  paint  line.  She  sails  within 
the  hour  for  the  English  provinces." 

Abuzz  of  joy  broke  from  the  castaway  mariners  at  the  pros- 
pect of  being  so  speedily  restored  to  their  homes,  and  they  hur- 
ried away  to  gather  together  the  few  possessions  which  they 
had  saved  from  the  wreck.  The  officer  put  his  list  in  his 
pocket  and  stepped  across  to  where  de  Catinat  leaned  mood- 
ily against  the  bulwarks. 

"  Surely  you  remember  me  ?"  he  said.  "  I  could  not  for- 
get your  face,  even  though  you  have  exchanged  a  blue  coat 
for  a  black  one." 

De  Catinat  grasped  the  hand  which  was  held  out  to  him. 

"  I  remember  you  well,  de  Bbnneville,  and  the  journey 
that  we  made  together  to  Fort  Fron*tenac,  but  it  was  not  for 
me  to  claim  your  friendship  now  that  things  have  gone  amiss 
with  me." 

"  Tut !  man  ;  once  my  friend,  always  my  friend." 

"  I  feared,  too,  that  my  acquaintance  would  do  you  little 
good  with  yonder  gray-cowled  friar  who  is  glowering  behind 
you." 

"  Well,  well,  you  know  how  it  is  with  us  here.  Frontenac 
could  keep  them  in  their  place,  but  de  la  Barre  was  as  clay 
in  their  hands,  and  this  new  one  promises  to  follow  in  his 
steps.  What  with  the  Sulpitians  at  Montreal  and  the  Jes- 
uits here,  we  poor  devils  are  between  the  upper  and  the 
nether  stones.  But  I  am  grieved  from  my  heart  to  give 

258 


such  a  welcome  as  this  to  an  old  comrade,  and  still  more  to 
his  wife." 

"What  is  to  be  done,  then  ?" 

"  You  are  to  be  confined  to  the  ship  until  she  sails,  which 
will  be  in  a  week  at  the  furthest." 

"  And  then  ?" 

"  You  are  to  be  carried  home  in  her,  and  handed  over  to 
the  Governor  of  Rochelle,  to  be  sent  back  to  Paris.  Those 
are  Monsieur  de  Denonville's  orders,  and  if  they  be  not  car- 
ried out  to  the  letter,  then  we  shall  have  the  whole  hornet's 
nest  about  our  ears." 

De  Catinat  groaned  as  he  listened.  After  all  their  striv- 
ings and  trials  and  efforts  to  return  to  Paris,  the  scorn  of  his 
enemies  and  an  object  of  pity  to  his  friends  was  too  deep  a 
humiliation.  He  flushed  with,  shame  at  the  very  thought. 
To  be  led  back  like  the  homesick  peasant  who  has  deserted 
his  regiment !  Better  one  spring  into  the  broad  blue  river 
beneath  him,  were  it  not  for  little  pale-faced  Adele,  who  had 
none  but  him  to  look  to.  It  was  so  tame !  So  ignominious  ! 
And  yet  in  this  floating  prison,  with  a  woman  whose  fate  was 
linked  with  his  own,  what  hope  was  there  of  escape  ? 

De  Bonneville  had  left  him  with  a  few  blunt  words  of 
sympathy,  but  the  friar  still  paced  the  deck,  with  a  furtive 
glance  at  him  from  time  to  time,  and  two  soldiers  who  were 
stationed  upon  the  poop  passed  and  repassed  within  a  few 
yards  of  him.  They  had  orders  evidently  to  watch  his  move- 
ments. Heart-sick,  he  leaned  over  the  side,  watching  the 
Indians  in  their  paint  and  feathers  shooting  backward  and 
forward  in  their  canoes,  and  staring  across  at  the  town, 
where  the  gaunt  gable  ends  of  houses  and  charred  walls 
marked  the  effects  of  the  terrible  fire  which  a  few  years  be- 
fore had  completely  destroyed  the  lower  part.  The  setting 
sun  was  reddening  the  battlements,  and  softening  the  stern 
outlines  of  the  rock  upon  which  it  rested,  while,  beyond  his 
scope  of  vision,  it  glittered  and  twinkled  upon  the  polished 
muskets  of  the  troops  who  were  drilling  above  upon  the 
parade-ground.  As  he  stood  gazing  his  attention  was  drawn 
away  by  the  swish  of  oars,  and  a  large  boat  full  of  men 
passed  immediately  underneath  where  he  stood. 

259 


It  held  the  New-Englanders,  who  were  being  conveyed  to 
the  ship  which  was  to  take  them  home.  There  were  the 
four  seamen  huddled  together,  and  there  in  the  sheets  were 
Captain  Ephraim  Savage  and  Amos  Green  conversing  to- 
gether and  pointing  to  the  shipping.  The  grizzled  face  of 
the  old  Puritan  and  the  bold  features  of  the  woodsman 
were  turned  more  than  once  in  his  direction,  but  no  word  of 
farewell  and  no  kindly  wave  of  the  hand  came  back  to  the 
lonely  exile.  They  were  so  full  of  their  own  future  and 
their  own  happiness  that  they  had  not  a  thought  to  spare 
upon  his  misery.  He  could  have  borne  anything  from  his 
enemies,  but  this  sudden  neglect  from  his  friends  came  too 
heavily  after  his  own  troubles.  He  stooped  his  face  to  his 
arms,  and  burst  in  an  instant  into  a  passion  of  sobs.  Before 
he  raised  his  eyes  again  the  .brig  had  hoisted  her  anchor, 
and  was  tacking  under  full  canvas  out  of  the  Quebec  basin. 


CHAPTER     XXIX 
THE   VOICE   AT   THE   PORT-HOLE 

THAT  night  old  The'ophile  Catinat  was  buried  from  the 
ship's  side,  his  sole  mourners  the  two  who  bore  his  own 
blood  in  their  veins.  The  next  day  de  Catinat  spent  upon 
deck,  amid  the  bustle  and  confusion  of  the  unlading,  en- 
deavoring to  cheer  Adele  by  light  chatter,  which  came  from 
a  heavy  heart.  He  pointed  out  to  her  the  places  which  he 
had  known  so  well,  the  citadel  where  he  had  been  quar- 
tered, the  college  of  the  Jesuits,  the  cathedral  of  Bishop 
Laval,  the  magazine  of  the  old  company  dismantled  by  the 
great  fire,  and  the  house  of  Aubert  de  la  Chesnaye,  the 
only  private  one  which  had  remained  standing  in  the  lower 
part.  From  where  they  lay  they  could  see  not  only  the 
places  of  interest,  but  something  also  of  that  motley  popu- 
lation which  made  the  town  so  different  to  all  others,  save 
only  its  younger  sister,  Montreal.  Passing  and  repassing 
along  the  steep  path,  with  the  picket-fence  which  connected 
the  two  quarters,  they  saw  the  whole  panorama  of  Canadian 
life  moving  before  their  eyes,  the  soldiers  with  their  slouched 
hats,  their  plumes  and  their  bandoleers,  habitans  from  the 
river  cotes  in  their  rude  peasant  dresses,  little  changed  from 
their  forefathers  of  Brittany  or  Normandy,  and  young  ruf- 
flers  from  France,  or  from  the  Seigneuries,  who  cocked 
their  hats  and  swaggered  in  what  they  thought  to  be  the 
true  Versailles  fashion.  There,  too,  might  be  seen  little 
knots  of  the  men  of  the  woods,  coureurs  de  bois  or  voyageurs, 
with  leathern  hunting-tunics,  fringed  leggings,  and  fur  cap 
with  eagle  feather,  who  came  once  a  year  to  the  cities,  leav- 
ing their  Indian  wives  and  children  in  some  up-country 
wigwam.  Redskins,  too,  were  there,  leather-faced  Algonquin 

261 


fishers  and  hunters,  wild  Micmacs  from  the  east,  and  savage- 
Abenakis  from  the  south,  while  everywhere  were  the  gray 
habits  of  the  Franciscans,  and  the  black  cassocks  and  broad 
hats  of  the  Recollets  and  Jesuits,  the  moving  spirits  of  the 
whole. 

Such  were  the  folk  who  crowded  the  streets  of  the  capital 
of  this  strange  offshoot  of  France,  which  had  been  planted 
along  the  line  of  the  great  river,  a  thousand  leagues  from 
the  parent  country.  And  it  was  a  singular  settlement — the 
most  singular,  perhaps,  that  has  ever  been  made.  For  a 
long  twelve  hundred  miles  it  extended,  from  Tadousac  in 
^  the  east,  away  to  the  trading-stations  upon  the  borders  of 
the  Great  Lakes,  limiting  itself  for  the  most  part  to  narrow 
cultivated  strips  upon  the  margins  of  the  river,  banked  in 
behind  by  wild  forests  and  unexplored  mountains,  which 
forever  tempted  the  peasant  from  his  hoe  and  his  plough,  to 
the  freer  life  of  the  paddle  and  the  musket.  Thin  scattered 
clearings,  alternating  with  little  palisaded  clumps  of  log- 
hewn  houses,  marked  the  line  where  civilization  was  forcing 
itself  in  upon  the  huge  continent,  and  barely  holding  its 
own  against  the  rigor  of  a  Northern  climate  and  the  feroc- 
ity of  merciless  enemies.  The  whole  white  population  of 
this  mighty  district,  including  soldiers,  priests,  and  wood- 
men, with  all  women  and  children,  was  very  far  short  of 
twenty  thousand  souls,  and  yet  so  great  was  their  energy, 
and  such  the  advantage  of  the  central  government  under 
which  they  lived,  that  they  had  left  their  trace  upon  the 
whole  continent.  When  the  prosperous  English  settlers  were 
content  to  live  upon  their  acres,  and  when  no  axe  had  rung 
upon  the  farther  side  of  the  Alleghanies,  the  French  had 
pushed  their  daring  pioneers,  some  in  the  black  robe  of  the 
missionary  and  some  in  the  fringed  tunic  of  the  hunter,  to 
the  uttermost  end  of  the  continent.  They  had  mapped  out 
the  lakes,  and  had  bartered  with  fierce  Sioux  on  the  great 
plains  where  the  wooden  wigwam  gave  place  to  the  hide 
tepee.  Marquette  had  followed  the  Illinois  down  to  the 
Mississippi,  and  had  traced  the  course  of  the  great  river 
until,  first  of  all  white  men,  he  looked  upon  the  turbid  flood 
of  the  rushing  Missouri.  La  Salle  had  ventured  even  far* 

262 


ther,  had  passed  the  Ohio,  and  had  made  his  way  to  the 
Mexican  Gulf,  raising  the  French  arms  where*  the  city  of 
New  Orleans  was  afterwards  to  stand.  Others  had  pushed 
on  to  the  Rocky  Mountains  and  to  the  huge  wilderness  of 
the  North-west,  preaching,  bartering,  cheating,  baptizing, 
swayed  by  many  motives,  and  holding  only  in  common  a 
courage  which  never  faltered  and  a  fertility  of  resource 
which  took  them  in  safety  past  every  danger.  Frenchmen 
were  to  the  north  of  the  British  settlements,  Frenchmen 
were  to  the  west  of  them,  and  Frenchmen  \vere  to  the  south 
of  them,  and  if  all  the  continent  is  not  now  French,  the 
fault  assuredly  did  not  rest  with  that  iron  race  of  early 
Canadians. 

All  this  de  Catinat  explained  to  Adele  during  the  autumn 
day,  trying  to  draw  her  thoughts  away  from  the  troubles  of 
the  past,  and  from  the  long  dreary  voyage  which  lay  before 
her.  She,  fresh  from  the  staid  life  of  the  Parisian  street 
and  from  the  tame  scenery  of  the  Seine,  gazed  with  amaze- 
ment at  the  river,  the%  woods,  and  the  mountains,  and 
clutched  her  husband's  arm  in  horror  when  a  canoeful  of 
wild  skin -clad  Algonquins,  their  faces  striped  with  white 
and  red  paint,  came  flying  past,  with  the  foam  dashing  from 
their  paddles.  Again  the  river  turned  from  blue  to  pink, 
again  the  old  citadel  was  bathed  in  the  evening  glow,  and 
again  the  two  exiles  descended  to  their  cabins,  with  cheer- 
ing words  for  each  other  and  heavy  thoughts  in  their  own 
hearts. 

De  Catinat's  bunk  was  next  to  a  port-hole,  and  it  was  his 
custom  to  keep  this  open,  as  the  caboose  in  which  the  cook- 
ing was  done  for  the  crew  was  close  to  him,  and  the  air 
was  hot  and  heavy.  That  night  he  found  it  impossible  to 
sleep,  and  he  lay  tossing*  under  his  blanket,  thinking  over 
every  possible  means  by  which  they  might  be  able  to  get 
away  from  this  cursed  ship.  But  even  if  they  got  away, 
where  could  they  go  to  then?  All  Canada  was  sealed  to 
them.  The  woods  to  the  south  were  full  of  ferocious  Ind- 
ians. The  English  settlements  would,  it  was  true,  grant 
them  freedom  to  use  their  own  religion,  but  what  could  his 
wife  and  he  do  without  a  friend,  strangers  among  folk  who 

263 


spoke  another  tongue  !  Had  Amos  Green  remained  true  to 
them,  then  indeed  all  would  have  been  well.  But  he  had 
deserted  them.  Of  course  there  was  no  reason  why  he 
should  not.  He  was  no  blood-relation  of  theirs.  He  had 
already  benefited  them  many  times.  His  own  people  and 
the  life  that  he  loved  were  waiting  for  him  at  home.  Why 
should  he  linger  here  for  the  sake  of  folk  whom  he  had 
known  but  a  few  months  ?  It  was  not  to  be  expected,  and 
yet — and  yet — de  Catinat  could  not  realize  it,  could  not 
understand  it. 

But  what  was  that?  Above  the  gentle  lapping  of  the  river 
he  had  suddenly  heard  a  sharp  clear  "hist!"  Perhaps  it 
was  some  passing  boatman  or  Indian.  Then  it  came  again, 
that  eager,  urgent  summons.  He  sat  up  and  stared  about 
him.  It  certainly  must  have  come  from  the  open  port-hole. 
He  looked  out,  but  only  to  see  the  broad  basin,  with  the 
loom  of  the  shipping,  and  the  distant  twinkle  from  the  lights 
on  Point  Levi.  As  his  head  dropped  back  upon  the  pillow, 
something  fell  upon  his  chest  with  a  little  tap,  and  rolling 
off,  rattled  along  the  boards.  He  sprang  up,  caught  a  lan- 
tern from  a  hook,  and  flashed  it  upon  the  floor.  There  was 
the  missile  which  had  struck  him — a  little  golden  brooch. 
As  he  lifted  it  up  and  looked  closer  at  it,  a  thrill  passed 
through  him.  It  had  been  his  own,  and  he  had  given  it  to 
Amos  Green  upon  the  second  day  that  he  had  met  him, 
when  they  were  starting  together  for  Versailles. 

This  was  a  signal,  then,  and  Amos  Green  had  not  de- 
serted them,  after  all.  He  dressed  himself,  all  in  a  tremble 
with  excitement,  and  went  upon  deck.  It  was  pitch-dark, 
and  he  could  see  no  one,  but  the  sound  of  regular  foot-falls 
somewhere  in  the  fore  part  of  the  ship  showed  that  the  sen- 
tinels were  still  there. 

The  guardsman  walked  over  to  the  side  and  peered 
down  into  the  darkness.  He  could  see  the  loom  of  a  boat. 
"  Who  is  there  ?"  he  whispered. 

"  Is  that  you,  de  Catinat  ?" 

"Yes." 

"  We  have  come  for  you." 

"  God  bless  you,  Amos  !" 

264 


"  Is  your  wife  there  ?" 

"No,  but  I  can  rouse  her." 

"Good!  But  first  catch  this  cord.  Now  pull  up  the 
ladder." 

De  Catinat  gripped  the  line  which  was  thrown  to  him, 
and  on  drawing  it  up,  found  that  it  was  attached  to  a  rope- 
ladder  furnished  at  the  top  with  two  steel  hooks  to  catch 
on  to  the  bulwarks.  He  placed  them  in  position,  and  then 
made  his  way  very  softly  to  the  cabin  amidships  in  the 
ladies'  quarter,  which  had  been  allotted  to  his  wife.  She 
was  the  only  woman  on  board  the  ship  now,  so  that  he  was 
able  to  tap  at  her  door  in  safety,  and  to  explain  in  a  few 
words  the  need  for  haste  and  for  secrecy.  In  ten  minutes 
Adele  had  dressed,  and  with  her  valuables  in  a  little  bun- 
dle, had  slipped  out  from  her  cabin.  Together  they  made 
their  way  upon  deck  once  more,  and  crept  aft  under  the 
shadow  of  the  bulwarks.  They  were  almost  there,  when  de 
Catinat  stopped  suddenly,  and  ground  out  an  oath  through 
his  clinched  teeth.  Between  them  and  the  rope-ladder  there 
was  standing,  in  a  dim  patch  of  murky  light,  the  grim  figure 
of  a  Franciscan  friar.  He  was  peering  through  the  dark- 
ness, his  heavy  cowl  shadowing  his  face,  and  he  advanced 
slowly,  as  if  he  had  caught  a  glimpse  of  them.  A  lantern 
hung  from  the  mizzen  shrouds  above  him.  He  unfastened 
it,  and  held  it  "up  to  cast  its  light  upon  them. 

But  de  Catinat  was  not  a  man  with  whom  it  was  safe  to 
trifle.  His  life  had  been  one  of  quick  resolve  and  prompt 
action.  Was  this  vindictive  friar  at  the  last  moment  to 
stand  between  him  and  freedom  ?  It  was  a  dangerous 
position  to  take.  The  guardsman  pulled  Adele  into  the 
shadow  of  the  mast,  and  then,  as  the  monk  advanced,  he 
sprang  out  upon  him  and  seized  him  by  the  gown.  As  he 
did  so  the  other's  cowl  was  pushed  back,  and  instead  of 
the  harsh  features  of  the  ecclesiastic,  de  Catinat  saw  with 
amazement  in  the  glimmer  of  the  lantern  the  shrewd  gray 
eyes  and  strong  stern  face  of  Ephraim  Savage.  At  the 
same  instant  another  figure  appeared  over  the  side,  and 
the  warm-hearted  Frenchman  threw  himself  into  the  arms 
of  Amos  Green. 

265 


"  It's  all  right,"  said  the  young  hunter,  disengaging  him- 
self with  some  embarrassment  from  the  other's  embrace. 
"We've  got  him  in  the  boat,  with  a  buckskin"glove  jammed 

into  his  gullet." 
,'/  "  Who,  then  ?" 

"  The  man  whose 
cloak  Captain 
Ephraim  there  has 
put  round  him. 
He  came  on  us  when 
you  were  away  rous- 
ing your  lady.  But 
we  got  him  to  be 
quiet  between  us. 
Is  the  lady  there  ?" 
"  Here  she  is." 
"  As  quick  as  you 
can,  then,  for  some 
one  may  come 
along." 

Adele  was  helped 
over  the  side,  and 
seated  in  the  stern 
of  a  birch-bark  ca- 
noe. The  three 
men  unhooked  the 
ladder,  and  swung 
themselves  down  by 
a  rope,  while  two 
Indians,  who  held 
the  paddles,  pushed 
silently  off  from  .the 
ship's  side,  and  shot  swiftly  up  the  stream.  A  minute 
later  a  dim  loom  behind  them  and  the  glimmer  of  two 
yellow  lights  were  all  that  they  could  see  of  the  Sf. 
Christophe. 

"  Take  a  paddle,  Amos,  and  I'll  take  one,"  said  Captain 
Savage,  stripping  off  his  monk's  gown.  "  I  felt  safer  in 
this  on  the  deck  of  yon  ship,  but  it  don't  help  in  a  boat. 

266 


1  HELD   IT  UP  TO   CAST   ITS  LIGHT  UPON  THEM 


I  believe  we  might  have  fastened  the  hatches  and  taken 
her,  brass  guns  and  all,  had  we  been  so  minded." 

^And  been  hanged  as  pirates  at  the  yard-arm  next 
morning,"  said  Amos.  "  I  think  that  we  have  done  better 
to  take  the  honey  and  leave  the  tree.  I  hope,  madame, 
that  all  is  well  with  you." 

"  Nay,  I  can  hardly  understand  what  has  happened,  or 
where  we  are." 

"  Nor  can  I,  Amos." 

"  Did  you  not  expect  us  to  come  back  for  you,  then  ?" 

"  I  did  not  know  what  to  expect." 

"  Well,  now,  surely  you  could  not  think  that  we  would 
leave  you  without  a  word." 

"  I  confess  that  I  was  cut  to  the  heart  by  it." 

"  I  feared  that  you  were  when  I  looked  at  you  with  the 
tail  of  my  eye,  and  saw  you  staring  so  blackly  over  the  bul- 
warks at  us.  But  if  we  had  been  seen  talking  or  planning, 
they  would  have  been  upon  our  trail  at  once.  As  it  was, 
they  had  not  a  thought  of  suspicion,  save  only  this  fellow 
whom  we  have  in  the  bottom  of  the  boat  here." 

"  And  what  did  you  do  ?" 

"We  left  the  brig  last  night,  got  ashore  on  the  Beaupre 
side,  arranged  for  this  canoe,  and  lay  dark  all  day.  Then 
to-night  we  got  alongside,  and  I  roused  you  easily,  for  I 
knew  where  you  slept.  The  friar  nearly  spoiled  all  when 
you  were  below,  but  we  gagged  him  and  passed  him  over 
the  side.  Ephrairn  popped  on  his  gown,  so  that  he  might 
go  forward  to  help  you  without  danger,  for  we  were  scared 
at  the  delay." 

"  Ah,  it  is  glorious  to  be  free  once  more.  What  do  I 
not  owe  you,  Amos  ?" 

"  Well,  you  looked  after  me  when  I  was  in  your  country, 
and  I  am  going  to  look  after  you  now." 

"And  where  are  we  going?" 

"  Ah,  there  you  have  me.  It  is  this  way  or  none,  for  we 
can't  get  down  to  the  sea.  We  must  make  our  way  over- 
land as  best  we  can,  and  we  must  leave  a  good  stretch  be- 
tween Quebec  and  us  before  the  day  breaks ;  for,  from 
what  I  hear  they  would  rather  have  a  Huguenot  prisoner 
T  267 


than  an  Iroquois  sagamore.  By  the  Eternal,  I  cannot  see 
why  they  should  make  such  a  fuss  over  how  a  man  chooses 
to  save  his  own  soul,  though  here  is  old  Ephraim,  jus^  as 
fierce  upon-  the  other  side,  so  all  the  folly  is  not  one  way." 

"  What  are  you  saying  about  me  ?"  asked  the  seaman, 
pricking  up  his  ears  at  the  mention  of  his  own  name. 

"  Only  that  you  are  a  good  stiff  old  Protestant." 

"  Yes,  thank  God  !  My  motto  is  freedom  to  conscience, 
d'ye  see,  except  just  for  Quakers  and  papists,  and — and  I 
wouldn't  stand  Anne  Hutchinsons,  and  women  testifying 
and  such  like  foolishness." 

Amos  Green  laughed.  "  The  Almighty  seems  to  pass 
it  over,  so  why  should  you  take  it  to  heart  ?"  said  he. 

"  Ah,  you're  young  and  callow  yet.  You'll  live  to  know 
better.  Why,  I  shall  hear  you  sayin'  a  good  word  soon  for 
such  unclean  spawn  as  this !"  prodding  the  prostrate  friar 
with  the  handle  of  his  paddle. 

"  I  dare  say  he's  a  good  man  accordin'  to  his  lights." 

"  And  I  dare  say  a  shark  is  a  good  fish  accordin'  to  its 
lights.  No,  lad,  you  won't  mix  up  light  and  dark  for  me  in 
that  sort  of  fashion.  You  may  talk  until  you  unship  your 
jaw,  d'ye  see,  but  you'll  never  talk  a  foul  wind  into  a  fair 
one.  Pass  over  the  pouch  and  the  tinder-box,  and  maybe 
our  friend  here  will  take  a  turn  at  my  paddle." 

All  night  they  toiled  up  the  great  river,  straining  every 
nerve  to  place  themselves  beyond  the  reach  of  pursuit. 
By  keeping  well  into  the  southern  bank,  and  so  avoiding 
the  force  of  the  current,  they  sped  swiftly  along,  for  both 
Amos  and  de  Catinat  were  practised  hands  with  the  paddler 
and  the  two  Indians  worked  as  though  they  were  wire  and 
whip -cord  instead  of  flesh  and  blood.  An  utter  silence 
reigned  over  all  the  broad  stream,  broken  only  by  the  lap, 
lap  of  the  water  against  their  curving  bows,  the  whirring  of 
the  night-hawk  above  them,  and  the  sharp  high  barking  of 
foxes  away  in  the  woods.  When  at  last  morning  broke, 
and  the  black  shaded  imperceptibly  into  gray,  they  were 
far  out  of  sight  of  the  citadel  and  of  all  trace  of  man's 
handiwork.  Virgin  woods  in  their  wonderful  many-colored 
autumn  dress  flowed  right  down  to  the  river  edge  on  either 

268 


side,  and  in  the  centre  was  a  little  island,  with  a  rim  of 
yellow  sand,  and  an  outflame  of  scarlet  tupetb  and  sumac 
in  one  bright  tangle  of  color  in  the  centre. 

"  I've  passed  here  before,"  said  de  Catinat.  "  I  remem- 
ber marking  that  great  maple  with  the  blaze  on  its  trunk 
when  last  I  went  with  the  Governor  to  Montreal.  That 
was  in  Frontenac's  day,  when  the  King  was  first  and  the 
bishop  second." 

The  redskins  who  had  sat  like  terra-cotta  figures,  without 
a  trace  of  expression  upon  their -set  hard  faces,  pricked  up 
their  ears  at  the  sound  of  that  name. 

"  My  brother  has  spoken  of  the  great  Onontio,"  said  one 
of  them,  glancing  round.  "  We  have  listened  to  the  whist- 
ling of  evil  birds  who  tell  us  that  he  will  never  come  back 
to  his  children  across  the  seas." 

"  He  is  with  the  great  white  father,"  answered  de  Catinat. 
"  I  have  myself  seen  him  in  his  council,  and  he  will  as- 
suredly come  across  the  great  water  if  his  people  have 
need  of  him." 

The  Indian  shook  his  shaven  head. 

"  The  rutting  month  is  past,  my  brother,"  said  he,  speak- 
ing in  broken  French;  "but  ere  the  month  of  the  bird-lay- 
ing has  come,  there  will  be  no  white  man  upon  this  river, 
save  only  behind  stone  walls." 

"What,  then?  We  have  heard  little.  Have  the  Iro- 
quois  broken  out  so  fiercely  ?" 

"My  brother,  they  said  that  they  would  eat  up  the 
Hurons,  and  where  are  the  Hurons  now  ?  They  turned 
their  faces  upon  the  Eries,  and  where  are  the  Eries  now  ? 
They  went  westward  against  the  Illinois,  and  who  can  find 
an  Illinois  village?  They  raised  the  hatchet  against  the 
Andastes,  and  their  name  is  blotted  from  the  earth.  And 
now  they  have  danced  a  dance  and  sung  a  song  which  will 
bring  little  good  to  my  white  brothers." 

"  Where  are  they,  then  ?" 

The  Indian  waved  his  hand  along  the  whole  southern 
and  western  horizon.  "  Where  are  they  not  ?  The  woods 
are  rustling  with  them.  They  are  like  a  fire  among  dry 
grass,  so  swift  and  so  terrible." 

269 


"On  my  life,"  said  de  Catinat,  "if  these  devils  are  in- 
deed unchained,  they  will  need  old  Frontenac  back  if  they 
are  not  to  be  swept  into  the  river." 

"  Ay,"  said  Amos.  "  I  saw  him  once  when  I  was  brought 
before  him  with  the  others  for  trading  on  what  he  called 
French  ground.  His  mouth  set  like  a  skunk-trap,  and  he 
looked  at  us  as  if  he  would  have  liked  our  scalps  for  his 
leggings.  But  I  could  see  that  he  was  a  chief  and  a  brave 
man." 

"  He  was  an  enemy  of  the  Church,  and  the  right  hand  of 
the  foul  fiend  in  this  country,"  said  a  voice  from  the  bot- 
tom of  the  canoe. 

It  was  the  friar,  who  had  succeeded  in  getting  rid  of  the 
buckskin  glove  and  belt  with  which  the  two  Americans  had 
gagged  him.  He  was  lying  huddled  up  now,  glaring  sav- 
agely at  the  party  with  his  fierce  dark  eyes. 

"  His  jaw  tackle  has  come  adrift,"  said  the  seaman. 
"  Let  me  brace  it  up  again." 

"  Nay,  why  should  we  take  him  farther  ?"  asked  Amos. 
"  He  is  but  weight  for  us  to  carry,  and  I  cannot  see  that 
we  profit  by  his  company.  Let  us  put  him  out." 

"  Ay,  sink  or  swim,"  cried  old  Ephraim,  with  enthusiasm. 

"  Nay,  upon  the  bank." 

"  And  have  him,  maybe,  in  front  of  us,  warning  the  black- 
jackets." 

"  On  that  island,  then." 

"Very  good.  He  can  hail  the  first  of  his  folk  who 
pass." 

They  shot  over  to  the  island  and  landed  the  friar,  who 
said  nothing,  but  cursed  them  with  his  eye.  They  left 
with  him  a  small  supply  of  biscuit  and  of  flour  to  last  him 
until  he  should  be  picked  up.  Then,  having  passed  a  bend 
in  the  river,  they  ran  their  canoe  ashore  in  a  little  cove 
where  the  whortleberry  and  cranberry  bushes  grew  right 
down  to  the  water's  edge,  and  the  sward  was  bright  with 
the  white  euphorbia,  the  blue  gentian,  and  the  purple  balm. 
There  they  laid  out  their  small  stock  of  provisions  and  ate 
a  hearty  breakfast,  while  discussing  what  their  plans  should 
be  for  the  future. 

270 


CHAPTER    XXX 
THE    INLAND    WATERS 

THEY  were  not  badly  provided  for  their  journey.  The 
captain  of  the  Gloucester  brig  in  which  the  Americans  had 
started  from  Quebec  knew  Ephraim  Savage  well — as  who 
did  not  upon  the  New  England  coast  ?  He  had  accepted 
his  bill,  therefore,  at  three  months'  date,  at  as  high  a  rate 
of  interest  as  he  could  screw  out  of  him,  and  he  had  let 
him  have  in  return  three  excellent  guns,  a  good  supply  of 
ammunition,  and  enough  money  to  provide  for  all  his 
wants.  In  this  way  he  had  hired  the  canoe  and  the  Ind- 
ians, and  had  fitted  her  with  meat  and  biscuit  to  last  them 
for  ten  days  at  the  least. 

"It's  like  the  breath  of  life  to  me  to  feel  the  heft  of  a 
gun  and  to  smell  the  trees  round  me,"  said  Amos.  "  Why, 
it  cannot  be  more  than  a  hundred  leagues  from  here  to 
Albany  or  Schenectady  right  through  the  forest." 

"  Ay,  lad,  but  how  is  the  gal  to  walk  a  hundred  leagues 
through  a  forest.  No,  no ;  let  us  keep  water  under  our 
keel,  and  lean  on  the  Lord." 

"  Then  there  is  only  one  way  for  it.  We  must  make  the 
Richelieu  River,  and  keep  right  along  to  Lake  Champlain 
and  Lake  Saint  Sacrement.  There  we  should  be  close  by 
the  head-waters  of  the  Hudson." 

"  It  is  a  dangerous  road,"  said  de  Catinat,  who  under- 
stood the  conversation  of  his  companions,  even  when  he 
was  unable  to  join  in  it.  "We  should  need  to  skirt  the 
country  of  the  Mohawks." 

"  It  is  the  only  one,  I  guess.     It  is  that  or  nothing." 

"  And  I  have  a  friend  upon  the  Richelieu  River  who,  I 
am  sure,  would  help  us  on  our  way,"  said  de  Catinat,  with 

271 


a  smile.  "  A  dele,  you  have  heard  me  talk  of  Charles  de  la 
Noue,  Seigneur  de  Sainte-Marie." 

"  He  whom  you  used  to  call  the  Canadian  Duke,  Amory?" 

"  Precisely.  His  seigneury  lies  on  the  Richelieu,  a  little 
to  the  south  of  Fort  St.  Louis,  and  I  am  sure  that  he  would 
speed  us  on  our  way." 

"  Good  !"  cried  Amos.  "  If  we  have  a  friend  there,  we 
shall  do  well.  That  clinches  it,  then,  and  we  shall  hold 
fast  by  the  river.  Let's  get  to  our  paddles,  then,  for  that 
friar  will  make  mischief  for  us  if  he  can." 

And  so  for  a  long  week  the  little  party  toiled  up  the 
great  waterway,  keeping  ever  to  the  southern  bank,  where 
there  were  fewer  clearings.  On  both  sides  of  the  stream 
the  woods  were  thick,  but  every  here  and  there  they  would 
curve  away,  and  a  narrow  strip  of  cultivated  land  would 
skirt  the  bank,  with  the  yellow  stubble  to  mark  where  the 
wheat  had  grown.  Adele  looked  with  interest  at  the 
wooden  houses,  with  their  jutting  stories  and  quaint  gable 
ends,  at  the  solid  stone-built  manor-houses  of  the  seigneurs, 
and  at  the  mills  which  projected  above  the  houses  in  every 
hamlet,  and  which  served  the  double  purpose  of  grinding 
flour  and  of  a  loop-holed  place  of  retreat  in  case  of  attack. 
Horrible  experience  had  taught  the  Canadians  what  the 
English  settlers  had  yet  to  learn,  that  in  a  land  of  savages 
it  is  a  folly  to  place  isolated  farm-houses  in  the  centre  of 
their  own  fields.  The  clearings  then  radiated  out  from  the 
villages,  and  every  cottage  was  built  with  an  eye  to  the 
military  necessities  of  the  whole,  so  that  the  defence  might 
make  a  stand  at  all  points,  and  might  finally  centre  upon 
the  stone  manor-house  and  the  mill.  Now  at  every  bluff 
and  hill  near  the  hamlets  might  be  seen  the  gleam  of  the 
muskets  of  the  watchers,  for  it  was  known  that  the  scalp- 
ing parties  of  the  Five  Nations  were  out,  and  none  could 
tell  where  the  blow  would  fall,  save  that  it  must  come  where 
they  were  least  prepared  to  meet  it. 

Indeed,  at  every  step  in  this  country,  whether  the  trav- 
eller were  on  the  St.  Lawrence,  or  west  upon  the  lakes,  or 
down  upon  the  banks  of  the  Mississippi,  or  south  in  the 
country  of  the  Cherokees  and  of  the  Creeks,  he  would  still 

272 


find  the  inhabitants  in  the  same  state  of  dreadful  expect- 
ancy, and  from  the  same  cause.  The  Iroquois,  as  they  were 
named  by  the  French,  or  the  Five  Nations,  as  they  called 
themselves,  hung  like  a  cloud  over  the  whole  great  conti- 
nent. Their  confederation  was  a  natural  one,  for  they 
were  of  the  same  stock  and  spoke  the  same  language,  and 
all  attempts  to  separate  them  had  been  in  vain.  Mohawks, 
Cayugas,  Onondagas,  Oneidas,  and  Senecas  were  each 
proud  of  their  own  totems  and  their  own  chiefs,  but  in 
war  they  were  Iroquois,  and  the  enemy  of  one  was  the 
enemy  of  all.  Their  numbers  were  small,  for  they  were 
never  able  to  put  two  thousand  warriors  in  the  field,  and 
their  country  was  limited,  for  their  villages  were  scattered 
over  the  tract  wrhich  lies  between  Lake  Champlain  and 
Lake  Ontario.  But  they  were  united,  they  were  cunning, 
they  were  desperately  brave,  and  they  were  fiercely  ag- 
gressive and  energetic.  Holding  a  central  position,  they 
struck  out  upon  each  side  in  turn,  never  content  with  sim- 
ply defeating  an  adversary,  but  absolutely  annihilating  and 
destroying  him,  while  holding  all  the  others  in  check  by 
their  diplomacy.  War  was  their  business,  and  cruelty  their 
amusement.  One  by  one  they  had  turned  their  arms 
against  the  various  nations,  until  for  a  space  of  over  a 
thousand  square  miles  none  existed  save  by  sufferance. 
They  had  swept  away  Hurons  and  Huron  missions  in  one 
fearful  massacre.  They  had  destroyed  the  tribes  of  the 
North-west,  until  even  the  distant  Sacs  and  Foxes  trembled 
at  their  name.  They  had  scoured  the  whole  country  to 
westward,  until  their  scalping  parties  had  come  into  touch 
with  their  kinsmen  the  Sioux,  who  were  lords  of  the  great 
plains  even  as  they  were  of  the  great  forests.  The  New 
England  Indians  in  the  east,  and  the  Shawnees  and  Dela- 
wares  farther  south,  paid  tribute  to  them,  and  the  terror  of 
their  arms  had  extended  over  the  borders  of  Maryland  and 
Virginia.  Never  perhaps  in  the  world's  history  has  so 
small  a  body  of  men  dominated  so  large  a  district  and  for 
so  long  a  time. 

For  half  a  century  these  tribes  haoT  nursed  a  grudge 
towards  the  French  since  Champlain  and  some  of  his  fol- 
T-  273 


lowers  had  taken  part  with  their  enemies  against  them. 
During  all  these  years  they  had  brooded  in  their  forest 
villages,  flashing  out  now  and  again  in  some  border  out- 
rage, but  waiting  for  the  most  part  until  their  chance  should 
come.  And  now  it  seemed  to  them  that  it  had  come. 
They  had  destroyed  all  the  tribes  who  might  have  allied 
themselves  with  the  white  men.  They  had  isolated  them. 
They  had  supplied  themselves  with  good  guns  and  plenty 
of  ammunition  from  the  Dutch  and  English  of  New  York. 
The  long  thin  line  of  French  settlements  lay  naked  before 
them.  They  were  gathered  in  the  woods  like  hounds  in 
leash,  waiting  for  the  orders  of  their  chiefs  which  should 
precipitate  them  with  torch  and  with  tomahawk  upon  the 
belt  of  villages. 

Such  was  the  situation  as  the  little  party  of  refugees  pad- 
dled along  the  bank  of  the  river,  seeking  the  only  path 
which  could  lead  them  to  peace  and  to  freedom.  Yet  it 
was,  as  they  well  knew,  a  dangerous  road  to  follow.  All 
down  the  Richelieu  were  the  outposts  and  block-houses  of 
the  French ;  for,  when  the  feudal  system  was  grafted  upon 
Canada,  the  various  seigneurs,  or  native  noblesse,  were  as- 
signed their  estates  in  the  positions  which  would  be  of 
most  benefit  to  the  settlement.  Each  seigneur,  with  his 
tenants  under  him,  trained  as  they  were  in  the  use  of  arms, 
formed  a  military  force  exactly  as  they  had  done  in  the 
Middle  Ages,  the  farmer  holding  his  fief  upon  condition 
that  he  mustered  when  called  upon  to  do  so.  Hence  the 
old  officers  of  the  regiment  of  Carignan  and  the  more  hardy 
of  the  settlers  had  been  placed  along  the  line  of  the  Riche- 
lieu, which  runs  at  right  angles  to  the  St.  Lawrence,  towards 
the  Mohawk  country.  The  block-houses  themselves  might 
hold  their  own,  but  to  the  little  party  who  had  to  travel 
down  from  one  to  the  other  the  situation  was  full  of  deadly 
peril.  It  was  true  that  the  Iroquois  were  not  at  war  with 
the  English,  but  they  would  discriminate  little  when  on  the 
war-path,  and  the  Americans,  even  had  they  wished  to  do 
so,  could  not  separate  their  fate  from  that  of  their  two 
French  companions. 

As  they  ascended  the  St.  Lawrence  they  met  many  ca- 
274 


noes  coming  down.  Sometimes  it  was  an  officer  or  an 
official  on  his  way  to  the  capital  from  Three  Rivers  or 
Montreal,  sometimes  it  was  a  load  of  skins,  with  Indians  or 
coureurs  de  bois  conveying  them  down  to  be  shipped  to  Eu- 
rope, and  sometimes  it  was  a  small  canoe  which  bore  a 
sunburnt,  grizzly -haired  man  with  rusty  weather-stained 
black  cassock,  who  zigzagged  from  bank  to  bank,  stopping 
at  every  Indian  hut  upon  his  way.  If  aught  were  amiss 
with  the  Church  in  Canada,  the  fault  lay  not  with  men  like 
these  village  priests,  who  toiled  and  worked  and  spent  their 
very  lives  in  bearing  comfort  and  hope,  and  a  little  touch 
of  refinement,  too,  through  all  those  wilds.  More  than  once 
these  wayfarers  \vished  to  have  speech  with  the  fugitives, 
but  they  pushed  onward,  disregarding  their  signs  and  hails. 
From  below  nothing  overtook  them,  for  they  paddled  from 
early  morning  until  late  at  night,  drawing  up  the  canoe 
when  they  halted,  and  building  a  fire  of  dry  wood,  for  al- 
ready the  nip  of  the  coming  winter  was  in  the  air. 

It  was  not  only  the  people  and  their  dwellings  which 
were  stretched  out  before  the  wondering  eyes  of  the  French 
girl  as  she  sat,  day  after  day,  in  the  stern  of  the  canoe. 
Her  husband  and  Amos  Green  taught  her,  also,  to  take 
notice  of  the  sights  of  the  woodlands,  and  as  they  skirted 
the  bank  they  pointed  out  a  thousand  things  which  her 
own  senses  would  never  have  discerned.  Sometimes  it  was 
'the  furry  face  of  a  raccoon  peeping  out  from  some  tree 
cleft,  or  an  otter  swimming  under  the  overhanging  brush- 
wood with  the  gleam  of  a  white-fish  in  its  mouth.  Or  per- 
haps it  was  the  wild-cat  crouching  along  a  branch,  with  its 
wicked  yellow  eyes  fixed  upon  the  squirrels  which  played 
at  the  farther  end ;  or  else  with  a  scuttle  arid  rush  the  Ca* 
nadian  porcupine  would  thrust  its  way  among  the  yellow 
blossoms  of  the  resin-weed  and  the  tangle  of  the  whortle- 
berry-bushes. She  learned,  too,  to  recognize  the  pert 
sharp  cry  of  the  tiny  chickadee,  the  call  of  the  bluebird, 
and  the  flash  of  its  wings  amid  the  foliage,  the  sweet  chirpy 
note  of  the  black  and  white  bobolink,  and  the  long-drawn 
mewing  of  the  cat-bird.  On  the  breast  of  the  broad  blue 
river,  with  nature's  sweet  concert  ever  sounding  from  the 

275 


bank,  and  with  every  color  that  artist  could  devise  spread 
out  before  her  eyes  in  the  foliage  of  the  dying  woods,  the 
smile  came  back  to  her  lips,  and  her  cheeks  took  a  glow 
of  health  which  France  had  never  been  able  to  give.  De 
Catinat  saw  the  change  in  her,  but  her  presence  weighed 
him  down  with  fear,  for  he  knew  that  while  nature  had 
made  these  woods  a  heaven,  man  had  changed  it  into  a  hell, 
and  that  a  nameless  horror  lurked  behind  all  the  beauty  of 
the  fading  leaves  and  of  the  woodland  flowers.  Often,  as 
he  lay  at  night  beside  the  smouldering  fire  upon  his  couch 
of  spruce  boughs  and  looked  at  the  little  figure  muffled  in 
the  blanket  and  slumbering  peacefully  by  his  side,  he  felt 
that  he  had  no  right  to  expose  her  to  such  peril,  and  that  in 
the  morning  they  should  turn  the  canoe  eastward  again  and 
take  what  fate  might  bring  them  at  Quebec.  But  ever  with 
the  daybreak  there  came  the  thought  of  the  humiliation, 
the  dreary  homeward  voyage,  the  separation  which  would 
await  them  in  galley  and  dungeon,  to  turn  him  from  his 
purpose. 

On  the  seventh  day  they  rested  at  a  point  but  a  few  miles 
from  the  mouth  of  the  Richelieu  River,  where  a  large  block- 
house, Fort  Richelieu,  had  been  built  by  M.  de  Saurel. 
Once  past  this,  they  had  no  great  distance  to  go  to  reach 
the  seigneury  of  de  Catinat's  friend  of  the  noblesse,  who 
would  help  them  upon  their  way.  They  had  spent  the 
night  upon  a  little  island  in  mid-stream,  and  at  early  dawn 
they  were  about  to  thrust  the  canoe  out  again  from  the 
sand -lined  cove  in  which  she  lay,  when  Ephraim  Savage 
growled  in  his  throat  and  pointed  out  across  the  water. 

A  large  canoe  was  coming  up  the  river,  flying  along  as 
quick  as  a  dozen  arms  could  drive  it.  In  the  stern  sat  a 
dark  figure  which  bent  forward  with  every  swing  of  the 
paddles,  as  though  consumed  by  eagerness  to  push  onward. 
Even  at  that  distance  there  was  no  mistaking  it.  It  was 
the  fanatical  monk  whom  they  had  left  behind  them. 

Concealed  among  the  brushwood  they  watched  their  pur- 
suers fly  past  and  vanish  round  a  curve  in  a  stream.  Then 
they  looked  at  one  another  in  perplexity. 

"  We'd  have  done  better  either  to  put  him  overboard  or 
276 


to  take  him  as  ballast,"  said  Ephraim.     "  He's  hull  down 
in  front  of  us  now,  and  drawin'  full." 

"  Well,  we  can't  take  the  back  track,  anyhow,"  said  Amos. 

"  And  yet  how  can  we  go  on  ?"  said  de  Catinat,  despond- 
ently. "  This  vindictive  devil  will  give  word  at  the  fort, 
and  at  every  other  point  along  the  river.  He  has  been 
back  to  Quebec.  It  is  one  of  the  Governor's  own  canoes, 
and  goes  three  paces  to  our  two." 

"  Let  me  cipher  it  out."  Amos  Green  sat  on  a  fallen 
maple  with  his  head  sunk  upon  his  hands.  "  Well,"  said 
he,  presently,  "  if  it's  no  good  going  on,  and  no  good  going 
back,  there's  only  one  way,  and  that  is  to  go  to  one  side. 
That's  so,  Ephraim,  is  it  not  ?" 

"  Ay,  ay,  lad ;  if  you  can't  run,  you  must  tack,  but  it 
seems  shoal  water  on  either  bow." 

"  We  can't  go  to  the  north,  so  it  follows  that  we  must  go 
to  the  south." 

"  Leave  the  canoe  !" 

"  It's  our  only  chance.  We  can  cut  through  the  woods 
and  come  out  near  this  friendly  house  on  the  Richelieu. 
The  friar  will  lose  our  trail  then,  and  we'll  have  no  more 
trouble  with  him,  if  he  stays  on  the  St.  Lawrence." 

"  There's  nothing  else  for  it,"  said  Captain  Ephraim, 
ruefully.  "  It's  not  my  way  to  go  by  land  if  I  can  get  by 
water,  and  I  have  not  been  a  fathom  deep  in  a  wood  since 
King  Philip  came  down  on  the  province,  so  you  must  lay 
the  course  and  keep  her  straight,  Amos." 

"  It  is  not  far,  and  it  will  not  take  us  long.  Let  us  get 
over  to  the  southern  bank,  and  we  shall  make  a  start.  If 
madame  tires,  de  Catinat,  we  shall  take  turns  to  carry  her." 

"  Ah,  monsieur,  you  cannot  think  what  a  good  walker  I 
am !  In  this  splendid  air  one  might  go  on  forever." 

"  We  will  cross,  then."  In  a  very  few  minutes  they  were 
at  the  other  side,  and  had  landed  at  the  edge  of  the  forest. 
There  the  guns  and  ammunition  were  allotted  to  each  man, 
and  his  share  of  the  provisions  and  of  the  scanty  baggage. 
Then  having  paid  the  Indians,  and  having  instructed  them 
to  say  nothing  of  their  movements,  they  turned  their  backs 
upon  the  river,  and  plunged  into  the  silent  woods. 

277 


CHAPTER   XXXI 
THE     HAIRLESS     MAN 

ALL  day  they  pushed  on  through  the  woodlands,  walking 
in  single  file.  Amos  Green  first,  then  the  seaman,  then 
the  lady,  and  de  Catinat  bringing  up  the  rear.  The  young 
woodman  advanced  cautiously,  seeing  and  hearing  much 
that  was  lost  to  his  companions,  stopping  continually  and 
examining  the  signs  of  leaf  and  moss  and  twig.  Their  route 
lay  for  the  most  part  through  open  glades  amid  a  huge  pine 
forest,  with  a  greensward  beneath  their  feet  made  beautiful 
by  the  white  euphorbia,  the  golden-rod,  and  the  purple  aster. 
Sometimes,  however,  the  great  trunks  closed  in  upon  them, 
and  they  had  to  grope  their  way  in  a  dim  twilight,  or  push 
a  path  through  the  tangled  brushwood  of  green  sassafras 
or  scarlet  sumac.  And  then  again  the  woods  would  shred 
suddenly  away  in  front  of  them,  and  they  would  skirt 
marshes  overgrown  with  wild -rice  and  dotted  with  little 
dark  clumps  of  alder-bushes,  or  make  their  way  past  silent 
woodland  lakes,  all  streaked  and  barred  with  the  tree 
shadows  which  threw  their  crimsons  and  clarets  and  bronzes 
upon  the  fringe  of  the  deep  blue  sheet  of  water.  There 
were  streams,  too,  some  clear  and  rippling,  where  the  trout 
flashed  and  the  kingfisher  gleamed,  others  dark  and  poison- 
ous from  the  tamarack  swamps,  where  the  wanderers  had 
to  wade  over  their  knees  and  carry  Adele  in  their  arms. 
So  all  day  they  journeyed  amid  the  great  forests,  with  never 
a  hint  or  token  of  their  fellow-man. 

But  if  man  were  absent,  there  was  at  least  no  want  of  life. 
It  buzzed  and  chirped  and  chattered  all  round  them,  from 
marsh  and  stream  and  brushwood.  Sometimes  it  was  the 
dun  coat  of  a  deer  which  glanced  between  the  distant 

278 


ADVANCING   THROUGH   THE   FOREST 


trunks,  sometimes  the  badger  which  scuttled  for  its  hole  at 
their  approach.  Once  the  long  in-toed  track  of  a  bear  lay 
marked  in  the  soft  earth  before  them,  and  once  Amos 
picked  a  great  horn  *from  amid  the  bushes  which  some 
moose  had  shed  the  month  before.  Little  red  squirrels 
danced  and  clattered  above  their  heads,  and  every  oak  was 
a  choir  with  a  hundred  little  voices  piping  from  the  shadow 
of  its  foliage.  As  they  passed  the  lakes,  the  heavy  gray 
stork  flapped  up  in  front  of  them,  and  they  saw  the  wild- 
duck  whirring  off  in  a  long  V  against  the  blue  sky,  or  heard 
the  quavering  cry  of  the  loon  from  amid  the  reeds. 

That  night  they  slept  in  the  woods,  Amos  Green  lighting 
a  dry  wood  fire  in  a  thick  copse  where  at  a  dozen  paces  it 
was  invisible.  A  few  drops  of  rain  had  fallen,  so  with  the 
quick  skill  of  the  practised  woodman  he  made  two  little 
sheds  of  elm  and  basswood  bark,  one  to  shelter  the  two 
refugees,  and  the  other  for  Ephraim  and  himself.  He  had 
shot  a  wild-goose,  and  this,  with  the  remains  of  their  bis- 
cuit, served  them  both  for  supper  and  for  breakfast.  Next 
day  at  noon  they  passed  a  little  clearing  in  the  centre  of 
which  were  the  charred  embers  of  a  fire.  Amos  spent  half 
an  hour  in  reading  all  that  sticks  and  ground  could  tell 
him.  Then,  as  they  resumed  their  way,  he  explained  to  his 
companions  that  the  fire  had  been  lit  three  weeks  before, 
that  a  white  man  and  two  Indians  had  camped  there,  that 
they  had  been  journeying  from  west  to  east,  and  that  one 
of  the  Indians  was  a  squaw.  No  other  traces  of  their 
fellow-mortals  did  they  come  across,  until,  late  in  the  after- 
noon, Amos  halted  suddenly  in  the  heart  of  a  thick  grove 
and  raised  his  hand  to  his  ear. 

"  Listen  !"  he  cried. 

"  I  hear  nothing,"  said  Ephraim. 

"  Nor  I,"  added  de  Catinat. 

"  Ah,  but  I  do !"  cried  Adele,  gleefully.  "  It  is  a  bell, 
and  at  the  very  time  of  day  when  the  bells  all  sound  in 
Paris." 

"You  are  right,  madame.  It  is  what  they  call  the 
Angelus." 

"  Ah,  yes,  I  hear  it  now !"  cried  de  Catinat.  "  It  was 
u  279 


drowned  by  the  chirping  of  the  birds.     But  whence  comes 
a  bell  in  the  heart  of  a  Canadian  forest  ?" 

"  We  are  near  the  settlements  on  the  Richelieu.  It  must 
be  the  bell  of  the  chapel  in  the  fort." 

"  Fort  St.  Louis  !  Ah,  then  we  are  no  great  way  from  my 
friend's  seigneury." 

"  Then  we  may  sleep  there  to-night,  if  you  think  that  he 
is  indeed  to  be  trusted." 

"  Yes.  He  is  a  strange  man,  with  ways  of  his  own,  but  I 
would  trust  him  with  my  life." 

"Very  good.  We  shall  keep  to  the  south  of  the  fort, 
and  make  for  his  house.  But  something  is  putting  up  the 
birds  over  yonder.  Ah  !  I  hear  the  sound  of  steps.  Crouch 
down  here  among  the  sumac,  until  we  see  who  it  is  who 
walks  so  boldly  through  the  woods." 

They  stooped  all  four  among  the  brushwood,  peeping  out 
between  the  tree  trunks  at  a  little  glade  towards  which 
Amos  was  looking.  For  a  long  time  the  sound  which  the 
quick  ears  of  the  woodman  had  detected  was  inaudible  to 
the  others,  but  at  last  they  too  heard  the  sharp  snapping  of 
twigs  as  some  one  forced  his  passage  through  the  under- 
growth. A  moment  later  a  man  pushed  his  way  into  the 
open,  whose  appearance  was  so  strange  and  so  ill  suited  to 
the  spot  that  even  Amos  gazed  upon  him  with  amazement. 

He  was  a  very  small  man,  so  dark  and  weather-stained 
that  he  might  have  passed  for  an  Indian  were  it  not  that 
he  walked  and  was  clad  as  no  Indian  had  ever  been.  He 
wore  a  broad-brimmed  hat,  frayed  at  the  edges,  and  so  dis- 
colored that  it  was  hard  to  say  what  its  original  tint  had 
been.  His  dress  was  of  skins  rudely  cut  and  dangling 
loosely  from  his  body,  and  he  wore  the  high  boots  of  a 
dragoon,  as  tattered  and  stained  as  the  rest  of  his  raiment. 
On  his  back  he  bore  a  huge  bundle  of  canvas  with  two  long 
sticks  projecting  from  it,  and  under  each  arm  he  carried 
what  appeared  to  be  a  large  square  painting. 

"  He's  no  Injun,"  whispered  Amos.  "  And  he's  no  wood- 
man, either.  Blessed  if  I  ever  saw  the  match  of  him." 

"  He's  neither  voyageur  nor  soldier  nor  coureur  de  bois" 
said  de  Catinat. 

280 


"  Seems  to  me  to  have  a  jury-mast  rigged  upon  his  back, 
and  fore  and  main  stay-sails  set  under  each  of  his  arms," 
said  Captain  Ephraim.  "  Well,  he  seems  to  have  no  con- 
sorts, so  we  may  hail  him  without  fear." 

They  rose  from  their  ambush,  and  as  they  did  so  the 
stranger  caught  sight  of  them.  Instead  of  showing  the 
uneasiness  which  any  man  might  be  expected  to  feel  at 
suddenly  finding  himself  in  the  presence  of  strangers  in 
such  a  country,  he  promptly  altered  his  course  and  came 
towards  them.  As  he  crossed  the  glade,  however,  the 
sounds  of  the  distant  bell  fell  upon  his  ears,  and  he  instant- 
ly whipped  off  his  hat  and  sunk  his  head  in  prayer.  A  cry 
of  horror  rose,  not  only  from  Adele,  but  from  every  one  of 
the  party,  at  the  sight  which  met  their  eyes. 

The  top  of  the  man's  head  was  gone.  Not  a  vestige  of 
hair  or  of  white  skin  remained,  but  in  place  of  them  was  a 
dreadful  crinkled,  discolored  surface,  with  a  sharp  red  line 
running  across  his  brow  and  round  over  his  ears. 

"By  the  Eternal!"  cried  Amos,  "the  man  has  lost  his 
scalp." 

"  My  God  !"  said  de  Catinat.     "  Look  at  his  hands  !" 

He  had  raised  them  in  prayer.  Two  or  three  little  stumps 
projecting  upward  showed  where  the  fingers  had  been. 

"  I've  seen  some  queer  figure-heads  in  my  life,  but  never 
one  like  that,"  said  Captain  Ephraim. 

It  was  indeed  a  most  extraordinary  face  which  confronted 
them  as  they  advanced.  It  was  that  of  a  man  who  might 
have  been  of  any  age  and  of  any  nation,  for  the  features  < 
were  so  distorted  that  nothing  could  be  learned  from  them. 
One  eyelid  was  drooping  with  a  puckering  and  flatness 
which  showed  that  the  ball  was  gone.  The  other,  however, 
shot  as  bright  and  merry  and  kindly  a  glance  as  ever  came 
from  a  chosen  favorite  of  fortune.  His  face  was  flecked 
over  with  peculiar  brown  spots,  which  had  a  most  hideous 
appearance,  and  his  nose  had  been  burst  and  shattered  by 
some  terrific  blow.  And  yet,  in  spite  of  this  dreadful  ap- 
pearance, there  was  something  so  noble  in  the  carriage  of 
the  man,  in  the  pose  of  his  head,  and  in  the  expression 
which  still  hung,  like  the  scent  from  a  crushed  flower,  round 

281 


his  distorted  features,  that  even  the  blunt  Puritan  seaman 
was  awed  by  it. 

"  Good-evening,  my  children,"  said  the  stranger,  picking 
up  his  pictures  again  and  advancing  towards  them.  "  I  pre- 
sume that  you  are  from  the  fort,  though  I  may  be  permitted 
to  observe  that  the  woods  are  not  very  safe  for  ladies  at 
present." 

"  We  are  going  to  the  manor-house  of  Charles  de  la  Noue, 
at  Sainte-Marie,"  said  de  Catinat,  "  and  we  hope  soon  to  be 
in  a  place  of  safety.  But  I  grieve,  sir,  to  see  how  terribly 
you  have  been  mishandled." 

"  Ah,  you  have  observed  my  little  injuries,  then  !  They 
know  no  better,  poor  souls !  They  are  but  mischievous 
children — merry-hearted,  but  mischievous.  Tut !  tut !  it  is 
laughable  indeed  that  a  man's  vile  body  should  ever  clog 
his  spirit,  and  yet  here  am  I  full  of  the  will  to  push  forward, 
and  I  must  even  seat  myself  on  this  log  and  rest  myself, 
for  the  rogues  have  blown  the  calves  of  my  legs  off." 

"  My  God  !     Blown  them  off !    The  devils  !" 

"  Ah,  but  they  are  not  to  be  blamed.  No,  no,  it  would 
be  uncharitable  to  blame  them.  They  are  ignorant  poor 
folk,  and  the  prince  of  darkness  is  behind  them  to  urge 
them  on.  They  sunk  little  charges  of  powder  into  my  legs, 
and  then  they  exploded  them,  which  makes  me  a  slower 
walker  than  ever,  though  I  was  never  very  brisk.  The 
Snail  was  what  I  was  called  at  school  in  Tours.  Yes,  and 
afterwards,  at  the  seminary,  I  was  always  the  Snail." 

"  Who  are  you,  then,  sir,  and  who  is  it  who  has  used  you 
so  shamefully  ?"  asked  de  Catinat. 

"Oh,  I  am  a  very  humble  person.  I  am  Ignatius  Morat, 
of  the  Society  of  Jesus.  And  as  to  the  people  who  have 
used  me  a  little  roughly,  why,  if  you  are  sent  upon  the  Iro- 
quois  mission,  of  course  you  know  what  to  expect.  I  have 
nothing  at  all  to  complain  of.  Why,  they  have  used  me 
very  much  better  than  they  did  Father  Jogues,  Father  Bre- 
boeuf,  and  a  good  many  others  whom  I  could  mention. 
There  were  times,  it  is  true,  when  I  was  quite  hopeful  of 
martyrdom,  especially  when  they  thought  that  my  tonsure 
was  too  small,  which  was  their  merry  way  of  putting  it. 

282 


But  I  suppose  that  I  was  not  worthy  of  it — indeed,  I  know 
that  I  was  not — so  it  only  ended  in  just  a  littfe  roughness." 

"  Where  are  you  go- 
ing, then?"  asked  Amos, 
who  had  listened  in 
amazement  to  the  man's 
words. 

"  I  am  going  to  Que- 
bec. You  see,  I  am 
such  a  useless  person 
that  until  I  have  seen 
the  Bishop  I  can  really 
do  no  good  at  all." 

"  You  mean  that  you 
will  resign  your  mis- 
sion into  the  Bishop's 
hands,"  said  de  Cati- 
nat. 

"  Oh  no.  That  would 
be  quite  the  sort  of  thing 
which  I  should  do  if  I 
were  left  to  myself,  for 
it  is  incredible  how  cow- 
ardly I  am.  You  would 
not  think  it  possible 
that  a  priest  of  God 
could  be  so  frightened 
as  I  am  sometimes. 
The  mere  sight  of  a  fire 
makes  me  shrink  all 
into  myself  ever  since 
I  went  through  the  or- 
deal of  the  lighted  pine 
splinters,  which  have 
left  all  these  ugly  stains 
upon  my  face.  But 
then,  of  course,  there  is 

the  order  to  be  thought  of,  and  members  of  the  order  do 
not  leave  their  posts  for  trifling  causes.     But  it  is  against 

283 


FATHER   IGNATIUS  MORAT 


the  rules  of  Holy  Church  that  a  maimed  man  should  per- 
form the  rite,  and  so,  until  I  have  seen  the  Bishop,  and  had 
his  dispensation,  I  shall  be  even  more  useless  than  ever." 

"  And  what  will  you  do  then  ?" 

"  Oh,  then,  of  course,  I  will  go  back  to  my  flock." 

"  To  the  Iroquois  ?" 

"  That  is  where  I  am  stationed." 

"Amos,"  said  de  Catinat,  "  I  have  spent  my  life  among 
brave  men,  but  I  think  that  this  is  the  bravest  man  that  I 
have  ever  met." 

"  On  my  word, "said  Amos,  "  I  have  seen  some  good  men 
too,  but  never  one  that  I  thought  was  better  than  this.  You 
are  weary,  father.  Have  some  of  our  cold  goose  ;  and  there 
is  still  a  drop  of  cognac  in  my  flask." 

"  Tut !  tut !  my  son,  if  I  take  anything  but  the  very  sim- 
plest living,  it  makes  me  so  lazy  that  I  become  a  snail 
indeed." 

"  But  you  have  no  gun  and  no  food.     How  do  you  live  ?" 

"  Oh,  the  good  God  has  placed  plenty  of  food  in  these 
forests  for  a  traveller  who  does  not  eat  very  much.  I  have 
had  wild  plums  and  wild  grapes  and  nuts  and  cranberries, 
and  a  nice  little  dish  of  tripe  de  mere  from  the  rocks." 

The  woodman  made  a  wry  face  at  the  mention  of  this 
delicacy. 

"  I  had  as  soon  eat  a  pot  of  glue."  said  he.  "  But  what 
is  this  which  you  carry  on  your  back  ?" 

"It  is  my  church.  Ah!  I  have  everything  here— tent, 
altar,  surplice— everything.  I  cannot  venture  to  celebrate 
service  myself  without  the  dispensation  ;  but  surely  this 
venerable  man  is  himself  in  orders,  and  will  solemnize  the 
most  blessed  function." 

Amos,  with  a  sly  twinkle  in  the  eyes,  translated  the  pro- 
posal to  Ephraim,  who  stood  with  his  huge  red  hands 
clinched,  mumbling  about  the  saltless  pottage  of  papacy. 
De  Catinat  replied  briefly,  however,  that  they  were  all  of 
the  laity,  and  that  if  they  were  to  reach  their  destination 
before  nightfall,  it  was  necessary  that  they  should  push  on. 

"  You  are  right,  my  son,"  said  the  little  Jesuit.  "  These 
poor  people  have  already  left  their  villages,  and  in  a  few 

284 


days  the  woods  will  be  full  of  them,  though  I  do  not  think 
that  any  have  crossed  the  Richelieu  yet.  « There  is  one 
thing,  however,  which  I  would  have  you  do  for  me." 

"  And  what  is  that  ?" 

"  It  is  but  to  remember  that  I  have  left  with  Father  Lam- 
berville,  at  Onondaga,  the  dictionary  which  I  have  made  of 
the  Iroquois  and  French  languages.  There,  also,  is  my  ac- 
count of  the  copper  mines  of  the  Great  Lakes,  which  I  vis- 
ited two  years  ago,  and  also  an  orrery,  which  I  have  made  to 
show  the  northern  heavens,  with  the  stars  of  each  month  as 
they  are  seen  from  this  meridian.  If  aught  were  to  go  amiss 
with  Father  Lamberville  or  with  me — and  we  do  not  live 
very  long  on  the  Iroquois  mission— it  would  be  well  that 
some  one  else  should  profit  from  my  work." 

"  I  will  tell  my  friend  to-night.  But  what  are  these  great 
pictures,  father,  and  why  do  you  bear  them  through  the 
wood  ?"  He  turned  them  over  as  he  spoke,  and  the  whole 
party  gathered  round  them,  staring  in  amazement. 

They  were  very  rough  daubs,  crudely  colored  and  gaudy. 
In  the  first,  a  red  man  was  reposing  serenely  upon  what 
appeared  to  be  a  range  of  mountains,  with  a  musical  instru- 
ment in  his  hand,  a  crown  upon  his  head,  and  a  smile  upon 
his  face.  In  the  second,  a  similar  man  was  screaming  at 
the  pitch  of  his  lungs,  while  half  a  dozen  black  creatures 
were  battering  him  with  poles  and  prodding  him  with 
lances. 

"  It  is  a  damned  soul  and  a  saved  soul,"  said  Father  Ig- 
natius Morat,  looking  at  his  pictures  with  some  satisfaction. 
"  These  are  clouds  upon  which  the  blessed  spirit  reclines, 
basking  in  all  the  joys  of  paradise.  It  is  well  done,  this 
picture,  but  it  has  had  no  good  effect  because  there  are  no 
beaver  in  it,  and  they  have  not  painted  in  a  tobacco-pipe. 
You  see,  they  have  little  reason,  these  poor  folk,  and  so  we 
have  to  teach  them  as  best  we  can  through  their  eyes  and 
their  foolish  senses.  This  other  is  better.  It  has  converted 
several  squaws  and  more  than  one  Indian.  I  shall  not  bring 
back  the  saved  soul  when  I  come  in  the  spring,  but  I  shall 
bring  five  damned  souls,  which  will  be  one  for  each  nation. 
We  must  fight  Satan  with  such  weapons  as  we  can  get.  you 

285 


see.  And  now,  my  children,  if  you  must  go,  let  me  first 
call  down  a  blessing  upon  you." 

And  then  occurred  a  strange  thing,  for  the  beauty  of  this 
man's  soul  shone  through  all  the  wretched  clouds  of  sect, 
and  as  he  raised  his  hand  to  bless  them,  down  went  those 
Protestant  knees  to  earth,  and  even  old  Ephraim  found  him- 
self with  a  softened  heart  and  a  bent  head  listening  to  the 
half  -  understood  words  of  this  crippled,  blinded  little 
stranger. 

"  Farewell,  then,"  said  he,  when  they  had  risen.  "  May 
the  sunshine  of  Ste.  Eulalie  be  upon  you,  and  may  Ste. 
Anne  of  Beaupre  shield  you  at  the  moment  of  your  danger." 

And  so  they  left  him,  a  grotesque  and  yet  heroic  figure, 
staggering  along  through  the  woods  with  his  tent,  his  pict- 
ures, and  his  mutilation.  If  the  Church  of  Rome  should 
ever  be  wrecked,  it  may  come  from  her  weakness  in  high 
places,  where  all  churches  are  at  their  weakest ;  or  it  may 
be  because,  with  what  is  very  narrow,  she  tries  to  explain 
that  which  is  very  broad ;  but  assuredly  it  will  never  be 
through  the  fault  of  her  rank  and  file,  for  never  upon  earth 
have  men  and  women  spent  themselves  more  lavishly  and 
more  splendidly  than  in  her  service. 


CHAPTER    XXXII 
THE   LORD   OF   SAINTE-MARIE 

LEAVING  Fort  St.  Louis,  whence  the  bells  had  sounded, 
upon  their  right,  they  pushed  onward  as  swiftly  as  they 
could,  for  the  sun  was  so  low  in  the  heavens  that  the  bushes 
in  the  clearings  threw  shadows  like  trees.  Then  suddenly, 
as  they  peered  in  front  of  them  between  the  trunks,  the 
green  of  the  sward  turned  to  the  blue  of  the  water,  and 
they  saw  a  broad  river  running  swiftly  before  them.  In 
France  it  would  have  seemed  a  mighty  stream,  but  coming 
fresh  from  the  vastness  of  the  St.  Lawrence,  their  eyes  were 
used  to  great  sheets  of  water.  But  Amos  and  de  Catinat 
had  both  been  upon  the  bosom  of  the  Richelieu  before,  and 
their  hearts  bounded  as  they  looked  upon  it,  for  they  knew 
that  this  was  the  straight  path  which  led  them,  the  one  to 
home,  and  the  other  to  peace  and  freedom.  A  few  days' 
journeying  down  there,  a  few  more  along  the  lovely  island- 
studded  lakes  of  Champlain  and  St.  Sacrement,  under  the 
shadow  of  the  tree-clad  Adirondacks,  and  they  would  be  at 
the  head-waters  of  the  Hudson,  and  their  toils  and  their 
dangers  be  a  thing  of  gossip  for  the  winter. evenings. 

Across  the  river  was  the  terrible  Iroquois  country,  and  at 
two  points  they  could  see  the  smoke  of  fires  curling  up  into 
the  evening  air.  They  had  the  Jesuit's  word  for  it  that 
none  of  the  war  parties  had  crossed  yet,  so  they  followed 
the  track  which  led  down  the  eastern  bank.  As  they  pushed 
onward,  however,  a  stern  military  challenge  suddenly  brought 
them  to  a  stand,  and  they  saw  the  gleam  of  two  musket- 
barrels  which  covered  them  from  a  thicket  overlooking  the 
path. 

"  We  are  friends,"  cried  de  Catinat. 
287 


"Whence  come  you,  then?"  asked  an  invisible  sentinel. 

"  From  Quebec." 

"  And  whither  are  you  going  ?" 

"To  visit  Monsieur  Charles  de  la  Noue,  Seigneur  of 
Sainte-Marie." 

"  Very  good.  It  is  quite  safe,  Du  Lhut  They  have  a 
lady  with  them,  too.  I  greet  you,  madame,  in  the  name  of 
my  father." 

Two  men  had  emerged  from  the  bushes,  one  of  whom 
might  have  passed  as  a  full-blooded  Indian  had  it  not  been 
for  these  courteous  words,  which  he  uttered  in  excellent 
French.  He  was  a  tall,  slight  young  man,  very  dark,  with 
piercing  black  eyes,  and  a  grim,  square,  relentless  mouth 
which  could  only  have  come  with  Indian  descent.  His 
coarse  flowing  hair  was  gathered  up  into  a  scalp-lock,  and 
the  eagle  feather  which  he  wore  in  it  was  his  only  head- 
gear. A  rude  suit  of  fringed  hide,  with  caribou-skin  moc- 
casins, might  have  been  the  fellow  to  the  one  which  Amos 
Green  was  wearing,  but  the  gleam  of  a  gold  chain  from  his 
belt,  the  sparkle  of  a  costly  ring  upon  his  finger,  and  the 
delicate,  richly  inlaid  musket  which  he  carried,  all  gave  a 
touch  of  grace  to  his  equipment.  A  broad  band  of  yellow 
ochre  across  his  forehead  and  a  tomahawk  at  his  belt  added 
to  the  strange  inconsistency  of  his  appearance. 

The  other  was  undoubtedly  a  pure  Frenchman,  elderly, 
dark,  and  wiry,  with  a  bristling  black  beard  and  a  fierce 
eager  face.  He  too  was  clad  in  hunter's  dress,  but  he  wore 
a  gaudy  striped  sash  round  his  waist,  into  which  a  brace  of 
long  pistols  had  been  thrust.  His  buckskin  tunic  had  been 
ornamented  over  the  front  with  dyed  porcupine  quills  and 
Indian  bead-work,  while  his  leggings  were  scarlet  with  a 
fringe  of  raccoon  tails  hanging  down  from  them.  Leaning 
upon  his  long  brown  gun,  he  stood  watching  the  party  while 
his  companion  advanced  towards  them. 

"  You  will  excuse  our  precautions,"  said  he.  "  We  never 
know  what  device  these  rascals  may  adopt  to  entrap  us.  I 
fear,  madame,  that  you  have  had  a  long  and  very  tiring  jour- 
ney." 

Poor  Adele,  who  had  been  famed  for  neatness  even  among 

288 


house-keepers  of  the  Rue  Saint-Martin,  hardly  dared  to  look 
down  at  her  own  stained  and  tattered  dress.  *  Fatigue  and 
danger  she  had  endured  with  a  smiling  face,  but  her  patience 
almost  gave  way  at  the  thought  of  facing  strangers  in  this 
attire. 

"  My  mother  will  be  very  glad  to  welcome  you,  and  to  see 
to  every  want,"  said  he,  quickly,  as  though  he  had  read  her 
thoughts.  "  But  you,  sir,  I  have  surely  seen  you  before." 

"  And  I  you,"  cried  the  guardsman.  "  My  name  is  Amory 
de  Catinat,  once  of  the  regiment  of  Picardy.  Surely  you 
are  Achille  de  la  Noue  de  Sainte-Marie,  whom  I  remember 
when  you  came  with  your  father  to  the  government  levees 
at  Quebec." 

"  Yes,  it  is  I,"  the  young  man  answered,  holding  out  his 
hand,  and  smiling  in  a  somewhat  constrained  fashion.  "  I 
do  not  wonder  that  you  should  hesitate,  for  when  you  saw 
me  last  I  was  in  a  very  different  dress  to  this." 

De  Catinat  did,  indeed,  remember  him  as  one  of  the 
young  noblesse  who  used  to  come  up  to  the  capital  once  a 
year,  where  they  inquired  about  the  latest  modes,  chatted 
over  the  year-old  gossip  of  Versailles,  and  for  a  few  weeks 
at  least  lived  a  life  which  was  in  keeping  with  the  traditions 
of  their  order.  Very  different  was  he  now,  with  scalp-lock 
and  war-paint  under  the  shadow  of  the  great  oaks,  his  mus- 
ket in  his  hand,  and  his  tomahawk  at  his  belt. 

"  We  have  one  life  for  the  forest  and  one  for  the  cities," 
said  he  ;  "  though,  indeed,  my  good  father  will  not  have  it 
so,  and  carries  Versailles  with  him  wherever  he  goes.  You 
know  him  of  old,  monsieur,  and  I  need  not  explain  my  words. 
But  it  is  time  for  our  relief,  and  so  we  may  guide  you  home." 

Two  men  in  the  rude  dress  of  Canadian  censitaires,  or 
farmers,  but  carrying  their  muskets  in  a  fashion  which  told 
de  Catinat's  trained  senses  that  they  were  disciplined  sol- 
diers, had  suddenly  appeared  upon  the  scene.  Young  de 
la  Noue  gave  them  a  few  curt  injunctions,  and  then  accom- 
panied the  refugees  along  the  path. 

"  You  may  not  know  my  friend  here,"  said  he,  pointing  to 
the  other  sentinel ;  "  but  I  am  quite  sure  that  his  name  is 
not  unfamiliar  to  you.  This  is  Greysolon  du  Lhut." 

289 


Both  Amos  and  de  Catinat  looked  with  the  deepest  curi- 
osity and  interest  at  the  famous  leader  of  coureurs  de  bois, 
a  man  whose  whole  life  had  been  spent  in  pushing  westward, 
ever  westward,  saying  little,  writing  nothing,  but  always  the 
first  wherever  there  was  danger  to  meet  or  difficulty  to  over- 
come. It  was  not  religion,  and  it  was  not  hope  of  gain, 
which  led  him  away  into  those  Western  wildernesses,  but 
pure  love  of  nature  and  of  adventure,  with  so  little  ambition 
that  he  had  never  cared  to  describe  his  own  travels,  and 
none  knew  where  he  had  been  or  where  he  had  stopped. 
For  years  he  would  vanish  from  the  settlements  away  into 
the  vast  plains  of  the  Dakota,  or  into  the  huge  wilderness 
of  the  North-west,  and  then  at  last,  some  day,  would  walk 
back  into  Sault  Sainte-Marie,  or  any  other  outmost  of  civiliza- 
tion, a  little  leaner,  a  little  browner,  and  as  taciturn  as  ever. 
Indians  from  the  farthest  corners  of  the  continent  knew  him 
as  they  knew  their  own  sachem.  He  could  raise  tribes  and 
bring  a  thousand  painted  cannibals  to  the  help  of  the  French, 
who  spoke  a  tongue  which  none  knew,  and  came  from  the 
shores  of  rivers  which  no  one  else  had  visited.  The  most 
daring  French  explorers,  when,  after  a  thousand  dangers, 
they  had  reached  some  country  which  they  believed  to  be 
new,  were  as  likely  as  not  to  find  Du  Lhut  sitting  by  his 
camp-fire  there,  some  new  squaw  by  his  side,  and  his  pipe 
between  his  teeth.  Or,  again,  when  in  doubt  and  danger, 
with  no  help  within  a  thousand  miles,  the  traveller  might 
suddenly  meet  this  silent  man,  with  one  or  two  tattered 
wanderers  of  his  own  kidney,  who  would  help  him  from  his 
peril,  and  then  vanish  as  unexpectedly  as  he  came.  Such 
was  the  man  who  now  walked  by  their  sides  along  the  bank 
of  the  Richelieu,  and  both  Amos  and  de  Catinat  knew  that 
his  presence  there  had  a  sinister  meaning,  and  that  the 
place  which  Greysolon  du  Lhut  had  chosen  was  the  place 
where  the  danger  threatened. 

"What  do  you  think  of  those  fires  over  yonder,  Du 
Lhut?"  asked  young  de  la  Noue. 

The  adventurer  was  stuffing  his  pipe  with  rank  Indian 
tobacco,  which  he  pared  from  a  plug  with  a  scalping-knife. 
He  glanced  over  at  the  two  little  plumes  of  smoke  which 

290 


stood  straight  up  against  the  red  evening  sky.     "  I  don't 
like  them,"  said  he. 

"  They  are  Iroquois,  then  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"Well,  at  least,  it  proves  that  they  are  on  the  other  side 
of  the  river." 

"  It  proves  that  they  are  on  this  side." 

"  What !" 

Du  Lhut  lit  his  pipe  from  a  tinder-paper.  "The  Iroquois 
are  on  this  side,"  said  he.  "  They  crossed  to  the  south 
of  us." 

"  And  you  never  told  us  !  How  do  you  know  that  they 
crossed,  and  why  did  you  not  tell  us  ?" 

"  I  did  not  know  until  I  saw  the  fires  over  yonder." 

"  And  how  did  they  tell  you  ?" 

"  Tut !  An  Indian  papoose  could  have  told,"  said  Du 
Lhut,  impatiently.  "Iroquois  on  the  trail  do  nothing  with- 
out an  object.  They  have  an  object,  then,  in  showing  that 
smoke.  If  their  war  parties  were  over  yonder,  there  would 
be  no  object.  Therefore  their  braves  must  have  crossed 
the  river.  And  they  could  not  get  over  to  the  north  without 
being  seen  from  the  fort.  They  have  got  over  on  the  south, 
then." 

Amos  nodded  with  intense  appreciation.  "That's  it," 
said  he.  "That's  Injun  ways.  I'll  lay  that  he  is  right." 

"  Then  they  may  be  in  the  woods  round  us.  We  may  be 
in  danger !"  cried  de  la  Noue. 

Du  Lhut  nodded,  and  sucked  at  his  pipe. 

De  Catinat  cast  a  glance  round  him  at  the  grand  tree 
trunks,  the  fading  foliage,  the  smooth  sward  underneath, 
with  the  long  evening  shadows  barred  across  it.  How  dif- 
ficult it  was  to  realize  that  behind  all  this  beauty  there 
lurked  a  danger  so  deadly  and  horrible  that  a  man  alone 
might  well  shrink  from  it,  far  more  one  who  had  the  woman 
whom  he  loved  walking  within  hand's,  touch  of  him !  It 
was  with  a  long  heart-felt  sigh  of  relief  that  he  saw  a  wall  of 
stockade  in  the  midst  of  a  large  clearing  in  front  of  him, 
with  the  stone  manor-house  rising  above  it.  In  a  line  from 
the  stockade  were  a  dozen  cottages,  with  cedar -shingled 

291 


roofs  turned  up  in  the  Norman  fashion,  in  which  dwelt  the 
habitants  under  the  protection  of  the  Seigneur's  chateau — 
a  strange  little  graft  of  the  feudal  system  in  the  heart  of  an 
American  forest.  Above  the  main  gate  as  they  approached 
was  a  huge  shield  of  wood  with  a  coat  of  arms  painted  upon 
it,  a  silver  ground  with  a  chevron  ermine  between  three  cor- 
onets gules.  At  either  corner  a  small  brass  cannon  peeped 
through  an  embrasure.  As  they  passed  the  gate  the  guard 
inside  closed  it  and  placed  the  huge  wooden  bars  into  posi- 
tion. A  little  crowd  of  men,  women,  and  children  were 
gathered  round  the  door  of  the  chateau,  and  a  man  ap- 
peared to  be  seated  on  a  high-backed  chair  upon  the  thresh- 
old. 

"You  know  my  father,"  said  the  young  man,  with  a 
shrug  of  his  shoulders.  "  He  will  have  it  that  he  has 
never  left  his  Norman  castle,  and  that  he  is  still  the  Seign- 
eur de  la  Noue,  the  greatest  man  within  a  day's  ride  of 
Rouen,  and  of  the  richest  blood  of  Normandy.  He  is  now 
taking  his  dues  and  his  yearly  oaths  from  his  tenants,  and 
he  would  not  think  it  becoming,  if  the  Governor  himself 
were  to  visit  him,  to  pause  in  the  middle  of  so  august  a 
ceremony.  But  if  it  would  interest  you,  you  may  step  this 
way  and  wait  until  he  has  finished.  You,  madame,  I  will 
take  at  once  to  my  mother,  if  you  will  be  so  kind  as  to 
follow  me." 

The  sight  was,  to  the  Americans  at  least,  a  novel  one. 
A  triple  row  of  men,  women,  and  children,  were  standing 
round  in  a  semicircle— the  men  rough  and  sunburned;  the 
women  homely  and  clean,  with  white  caps  upon  their 
heads;  the  children  open-mouthed  and  round-eyed,  awed 
into  an  unusual  quiet  by  the  reverent  bearing  of  their 
elders.  In  the  centre,  on  his  high -backed  carved  chair, 
there  sat  an  elderly  man,  very  stiff  and  erect,  with  an  ex- 
ceedingly solemn  face.  He  was  a  fine  figure  of  a  man,  tall 
and  broad,  with  large  strong  features,  clean-shaven  and 
deeply  lined,  a  huge  beak  of  a  nose,  and  strong  shaggy 
eyebrows  which  arched  right  up  to  the  great  wig,  which  he 
wore  full  and  long,  as  it  had  been  worn  in  France  in  his 
youth.  On  his  wig  was  placed  a  white  hat,  cocked  jauntily 

292 


at  one  side,  with  a  red  feather  streaming  round  it ;  and  he 
wore  a  coat  of  cinnamon-colored  cloth,  with  silver  at  the 
neck  and  pockets,  which  was  still  very  handsome,  though 
it  bore  signs  of  having  been  frayed  and  mended  more  than 
once.  This,  with  black  velvet  knee  -  breeches,  and  high 
well -polished  boots,  made  a  costume  such  as  de  Catinat 
had  never  before  seen  in  the  wilds  of  Canada. 

As  they  watched,  a  rude  husbandman  walked  forward 
from  the  crowd,  and  kneeling  down  upon  a  square  of  carpet, 
placed  his  hands  between  those  of  the  Seigneur. 

"Monsieur  de  Sainte-Marie !  Monsieur  de  Sainte-Marie  ! 
Monsieur  de  Sainte-Marie  !"  said  he,  three  times.  "  I  bring 
you  the  faith  and  homage  which  I  am  bound  to  bring 
you  on  account  of  my  fief  Herbert,  which  I  hold  as  a  man 
of  faith  of  your  seigneury." 

"  Be  true,  my  son.  Be  valiant  and  true  !"  said  the  old 
nobleman,  solemnly;  and  then,  with  a  sudden  change  of 
tone,  "  What  in  the  name  of  the  devil  has  your  daughter 
got  there  ?" 

A  girl  had  advanced  from  the  crowd,  with  a  large  strip  of 
bark  in  front  of  her,  on  which  was  heaped  a  pile  of  dead  fish. 

"  It  is  your  eleventh  fish,  which  I  am  bound  by  my  oath  to 
render  to  ygu,"  said  the  censitaire.  "  There  are  seventy-three 
in  the  heap,  and  I  have  caught  eight  hundred  in  the  month." 

"  Peste !"  cried  the  nobleman.  "  Do  you  think,  Andre' 
Dubois,  that  I  will  disorder  my  health  by  eating  three-and- 
seventy  fish  in  this  fashion  ?  Do  you  think  that  I  and  my 
body  -  servants,  and  my  personal  retainers,  and  the  other 
members  of  my  household  have  nothing  to  do  but  to  eat 
your  fish?  In  future  you  will  pay  your  tribute,  not  more 
than  five  at  a  time.  Where  is  the  major-domo  ?  Theuriet, 
remove  the  fish  to  our  central  storehouse,  and  be  careful 
that  the  smell  does  not  penetrate  to  the  blue  -  tapestry 
chamber,  or  to  my  lady's  suite." 

A  man  in  very  shabby  black  livery,  all  stained  and  faded, 
advanced  with  a  large  tin  platter,  and  carried  off  the  pile 
of  white-fish.  Then,  as  each  of  the  tenants  stepped  for- 
ward to  pay  his  old-world  homage,  he  left  some  share  of 
his  industry  for  his  lord's  maintenance.  With  some  it  was 

293 


a  bundle  of  wheat,  with  some  a  barrel  of  potatoes,  while 
others  had  brought  skins  of  deer,  or  of  beaver.  All  these 
were  carried  off  by  the  major-domo,  until  each  had  paid 
his  tribute,  and  the  singular  ceremony  was  brought  to  a 
conclusion.  As  the  Seigneur  rose,  his  son,  who  had  re- 
turned, took  de  Catinat  by  the  sleeve,  and  led  him  through 
the  throng. 

"  Father,"  said  he,  "  this  is  Monsieur  de  Catinat,  whom 
you  may  remember  some  years  ago  at  Quebec." 

The  Seigneur  bowed  with  much  condescension,  and 
shook  the  guardsman  by  the  hand. 

"You  are  extremely  welcome  to  my  estates,  both  you 
and  your  body-servants — " 

"They  are  my  friends,  monsieur.  This  is  Monsieur 
Amos  Green,  and  Captain  Ephraim  Savage.  My  wife  is 
travelling  with  me,  but  your  courteous  son  has  kindly  taken 
her  to  your  lady." 

"I  am  honored— honored  indeed!"  cried  the  old  man, 
with  a  bow  and  a  flourish.  '  "  I  remember  you  very  well, 
sir,  for  it  is  not  so  common  to  meet  men  of  quality  in  this 
country.  I  remember  your  father  also,  for  he  served  with 
me  at  Rocroy,  though  he  was  in  the  foot,  and  I  in  the  Red 
Dragoons  of  Grissot.  Your  arms  are  a  martlet  in  fess 
upon  a  field  azure ;  and  now  that  I  think  of  it,  the  second 
son  of  your  great-grandfather  married  the  niece  of  one 
of  the  de  la  Noues,  of  Andelys,  which  is  one  of  our  cadet 
branches.  Kinsman,  you  are  welcome  !"  He  threw  his 
arms  suddenly  round  de  Catinat,  and  slapped  him  three 
times  on  the  back. 

The  young  guardsman  was  only  too  delighted  to  find 
himself  admitted  to  such  an  intimacy. 

"  I  will  not  intrude  long  upon  your  hospitality,"  said  he. 
"  We  are  journeying  down  to  Lake  Champlain,  and  we 
hope  in  a  day  or  two  to  be  ready  to  go  on." 

"  A  suite  of  rooms  shall  be  laid  at  your  disposal  as  long 
as  you  do  me  the  honor  to  remain  here.  Peste  !  It  is  not 
every  day  that  I  can  open  my  gates  to  a  man  with  good 
blood  in  his  veins !  Ah,  sir,  that  is  what  I  feel  most  in  my 
exile,  for  who  is  there  with  whom  I  can  talk  as  equal  to 

294 


equal  ?  There  is  the  Governor,  the  Intendant  perhaps,  one 
or  two  priests,  three  or  four  officers,  but  how  many  of  the 
noblesse^  Scarcely  one.  They  buy  their  titles  over  here 
as  they  buy  their  pelts,  and  it  is  better  to  have  a  canoe- 
load  of  beaver-skins  than  a  pedigree  from  Roland.  But  I 
forget  my  duties.  You  are  weary  and  hungry,  you  and 
your  friends.  Come  up  with  me  to  the  tapestried  saloon, 
and  we  shall  see  if  my  stewards  can  find  anything  for  your 
refreshment.  You  play  piquet,  if  I  remember  right.  Ah, 
my  skill  is  leaving  me,  and  I  should  be  glad  to  try  a  hand 
or  two  with  you." 

The  manor-house  was  high  and  strong,  built  of  gray- 
stone  in  a  framework  of  wood.  The  large  iron-clamped 
door  through  which  they  entered  was  pierced  for  musketry 
fire,  and  led  into  a  succession  of  cellars  and  storehouses 
in  which  the  beets,  carrots,  potatoes,  cabbages,  cured 
meat,  dried  eels,  and  other  winter  supplies  were  placed. 
A  winding  stone  staircase  led  them  through  a  huge  kitchen, 
flagged  and  lofty,  from  which  branched  the  rooms  of  the 
servants,  or  retainers,  as  the  old  nobleman  preferred  to  call 
them.  Above  this  again  was  the  principal  suite,  centring 
in  the  dining-hall,  with  its  huge  fireplace  and  rude  home- 
made furniture.  Rich  rugs  formed  of  bear  or  deer  skin 
were  littered  thickly  over  the  brown  -  stained  floor,  and 
antlered  heads  bristled  out  from  among  the  rows  of  mus- 
kets which  were  arranged  along  the  wall.  A  broad  rough- 
hewn  maple  table  ran  down  the  centre  of  this  apartment, 
and  on  this  there  was  soon  set  a  venison  pie,  a  side  of 
calvered  salmon,  and  a  huge  cranberry  tart,  to  which  the 
hungry  travellers  did  full  justice.  The  Seigneur  explained 
that  he  had  already  supped,  but  having  allowed  himself  to 
be  persuaded  into  joining  them,  he  ended  by  eating  more 
than  Ephraim  Savage,  drinking  more  than  Du  Lhut,  and 
finally  by  singing  a  very  amorous  little  French  chanson, 
with  a  tra-li-ra  chorus,  the  words  of  which,  fortunately  for 
the  peace  of  the  company,  were  entirely  unintelligible  to 
the  Bostonian. 

"  Madame  is  taking  her  refection  in  my  lady's  boudoir," 
he  remarked,  when  the  dishes  had  been  removed.  "  You 

295 


may  bring  up  a  bottle  of  Frontiniac  from  bin  thirteen, 
Theuriet.  Ah,  you  will  see,  gentlemen,  that  even  in  the 
wilds  we  have  a  little,  a  very  little,  which  is  perhaps  not  al- 
together bad.  And  so  you  come  from  Versailles,  de  Cati- 
nat  ?  It  was  built  since  my  day,  but  how  I  remember  the 
old  life  of  the  court  at  Saint-Germain,  before  Louis  turned 
serious !  Ah,  what  innocent  happy  days  they  were,  when 
Madame  de  Nevailles  had  to  bar  the  windows  of  the  maids 
of  honor  to  keep  out  the  King,  and  we  all  turned  out  eight 
deep  on  to  the  grass-plot  for  our  morning  duel !  By  St. 
Denis  !  I  have  not  quite  forgotten  the  trick  of  the  wrist  yet, 
and,  old  as  I  am,  I  should  be  none  the  worse  for  a  little 
breather."  He  strutted  in  his  stately  fashion  over  to  where 
a  rapier  and  dagger  hung  upon  the  wall,  and  began  to  make 
passes  at  the  door,  darting  in  and  out,  warding  off  imagina- 
ry blows  with  his  poniard,  and  stamping  his  foot,  with  little 
cries  of  "  punto  !  riverso !  stoccata  !  dritta !  mandritta  !" 
and  all  the  jargon  of  the  fencing-schools.  Finally  he  re- 
joined them,  breathing  heavily,  and  with  his  wig  awry. 

"That  was  our  old  exercise,"  said  he.  "Doubtless  you 
young  bloods  have  improved  upon  it;  and  yet  it  was  good 
enough  for  ths  Spaniards  at  Rocroy  and  at  one  or  two  other 
places  which  I  could  mention.  But  they  still  see  life  at  the 
court,  I  understand.  There  are  still  love  passages  and 
bloodlettings.  How  has  Lauzun  prospered  in  his  wooing 
of  Mademoiselle  de  Montpensier?  Was  it  proved  that 
Madame  de  Clermont  had  bought  a  vial  from  La  Vie,  the 
poison -woman,  two  days  before  the  soup  disagreed  so 
violently  with  monsieur?  What  did  the  Due  de  Biron  do 
when  his  nephew  ran  away  with  the  Duchess  ?  Is  it  true 
that  he  raised  his  allowance  to  fifty  thousand  livres  for  hav- 
ing done  it  ?" 

Such  were  the  two-year-old  questions  which  had  not  been 
answered  yet  upon  the  banks  of  the  Richelieu  River.  Long 
into  the  hours  of  the  night,  when  his  comrades  were  already 
snoring  under  their  blankets,  de  Catinat,  blinking  and  yawn- 
ing, was  still  engaged  in  trying  to  satisfy  the  curiosity  of 
the  old  courtier,  and  to  bring  him  up  to  date  in  all  the  most 
minute  gossip  of  Versailles. 

296 


CHAPTER    XXXIII 
THE   SLAYING   OF    BROWN    MOOSE 

Two  days  were  spent  by  the  travellers  at  the  Seigneury 
of  Sainte-Marie,  and  they  would  very  willingly  have  spent 
longer,  for  the  quarters  were  comfortable  and  the  welcome 
warm,  but  already  the  reds  of  autumn  were  turning  to  brown, 
and  they  knew  how  suddenly  the  ice  and  snow  come  in 
those  Northern  lands,  and  how  impossible  it  would  be  to 
finish  their  journey  if  winter  were  once  fairly  upon  them. 
The  old  nobleman  had  sent  his  scouts  by  land  and  by 
water,  but  there  were  no  signs  of  the  Iroquois  upon  the 
eastern  bank,  so  that  it  was  clear  that  Du  Lhut  had  been 
mistaken.  Over  on  the  other  side,  however,  the  gray  plumes 
of  smoke  still  streamed  up  above  the  trees  as  a  sign  that 
their  enemies  were  not  very  far  off.  All  day  from  the 
manor-house  windows  and  from  the  stockade  they  could 
see  those  danger  signals  which  reminded  them  that  a  horri-^ 
ble  death  lurked  ever  at  their  elbow. 

The  refugees  were  rested  now  and  refreshed,  and  of  one 
mind  about  pushing  on. 

"If  the  snow  comes  it  will  be  a  thousand  times  more 
dangerous,"  said  Amos,  "for  we  shall  leave  a  track  then 
that  a  pappoose  could  follow." 

"  And  why  should  we  fear  ?"  urged  old  Ephraim  ;  "  truly 
this  is  a  desert  of  salt,  even  though  it  lead  to  th«  vale  of 
Hinnom,  but  we  shall  be  borne  up  against  these  sons  of 
Jeroboam.  Steer  a  straight  course,  lad,  and  jam  your  helm, 
for  the  Pilot  will  see  you  safe." 

"  And  I  am  not  frightened,  Amory,  and  I  am  quite  rested 
now,"  said  Adele.  "  We  shall  be  so  much  more  happy  when 
we  are  in  the  English  provinces,  for  even  now  how  do  we 

297 


know  that  that  dreadful  friar  may  not  come  with  orders  to 
drag  us  back  to  Quebec  and  Paris." 

It  was  indeed  very  possible  that  the  vindictive  Franciscan, 
when  satisfied  that  they  had  not  ascended  to  Montreal  or 
remained  at  Three  Rivers,  might  seek  them  on  the  banks  of 
the  Richelieu.  When  de  Catinat  thought  of  how  he  passed 
them  in  his  great  canoe  that  morning,  his  eager  face  pro- 
truded, and  his  dark  body  swinging  in  time  to  the  paddles,  he 
felt  that  the  danger  which  his  wife  suggested  was  not  only 
possible  but  imminent.  The  Seigneur  was  his  friend,  but  the 
Seigneur  could  not  disobey  the  Governor's  order.  A  great 
hand  stretching  all  the  way  from  Versailles  seemed  to  hang 
over  them,  even  here  in  the  heart  of  the  virgin  forest,  ready 
to  snatch  them  up  and  carry  them  back  into  degradation 
and  misery.  Better  all  the  perils  of  the  woods  than  that. 

But  the  Seigneur  and  his  son,  who  knew  nothing  of  their 
pressing  reasons  for  haste,  were  strenuous  in  urging  de 
Catinat  the  other  way,  and  in  this  they  were  supported  by 
the  silent  Du  Lhut,  whose  few  muttered  words  were  always 
more  weighty  than  the  longest  speech,  for  he  never  spoke 
save  about  that  of  which  he  was  a  master. 

"  You  have  seen  my  little  place,"  said  the  old  nobleman, 
with  a  wave  of  his  beruffled,  ring-covered  hand.  "  It  is  not 
what  I  should  wish  it,  but  such  as  it  is,  it  is  most  heartily 
yours  for  the  winter,  if  you  and  your  comrades  would  honor 
me  by  remaining.  As  to  madame,  I  doubt  not  that  my  own 
dame  and  she  will  find  plenty  to  amuse  and  occupy  them, 
which  reminds  me,  de  Catinat,  that  you  have  not  yet  been 
presented.  Theuriet,  go  to  your  mistress  and  inform  her 
that  I  request  her  to  be  so  good  as  to  come  to  us  in  the 
hall  of  the  dais." 

De  Catinat  was  too  seasoned  to  be  easily  startled,  but  he 
was  somewhat  taken  aback  when  the  lady,  to  whom  the  old 
nobleman  always  referred  in  terms  of  exaggerated  respect, 
proved  to  be  as  like  a  full-blooded  Indian  squaw  as  the 
hall  of  the  dais  was  to  a  French  barn.  She  was  dressed, 
it  was  true,  in  a  bodice  of  scarlet  taffeta,  with  a  black  skirt, 
silver-buckled  shoes,  and  a  scented  pomander  ball  dangling 
by  a  silver  chain  from  her  girdle,  but  her  face  was  of  the 

298 


color  of  the  bark  of  the 
Scotch  fir,  while  her  strong 
nose  and  harsh  mouth,  with 
the  two  plaits  of  coarse 
black  hair  which  dangled 
down  her  back,  left  no  pos- 
sible doubt  as  to  her  origin. 

"  Allow  me  to  present 
you,  Monsieur  de  Catinat," 
said  the  Seigneur  de  Sainte- 
Marie,  solemnly,  "  to  my 
wife,  Onega  de  la  Noue  de 
Sainte-Marie,  chatelaine  by 
right  of  marriage  to  this 
seigneury,  and  also  to  the 
Chateau  d'Andelys  in  Nor- 
mandy, and  to  the  estate  of 
Varennes  in  Provence,  while 
retaining  in  her  own  right 
the  hereditary  chieftainship 
on  the  distaff  side  of  the 
nation  of  the  Onondagas. 
My  angel,  I  have  been  en- 
deavoring to  persuade  our 
friends  to  remain  with  us  at 
Sainte-Marie  instead  of 
journeying  on  to  Lake 
Champlain." 

"  At  least  leave  your  white 
lily  at  Sainte-Marie,"  said  the 
dusky  princess,  speaking  in 
excellent  French,  and  clasp- 
ing with  her  ruddy  fingers 
the  ivory  hand  of  Adele.  "  We  will  hold  her  safe  for  you 
until  the  ice  softens,  and  the  leaves  and  the  partridge-ber- 
ries  come  once  more.  I  know  my  people,  monsieur,  and  I 
tell  you  that  the  woods  are  full  of  murder,  and  that  it  is 
not  for  nothing  that  the  leaves  are  the  color  of  blood,  for 
death  lurks  behind  every  tree." 

299 


THE  LADY  OF  SAINTE-MARIE 


De  Catinat  was  more  moved  by  the  -impressive  manner 
of  his  hostess  than  by  any  of  the  other  warnings  which  he 
had  received.  Surely  she,  if  any  one,  must  be  able  to  read 
the  signs  of  the  times. 

"  I  know  not  what  to  do  !"  he  cried,  in  despair.  "  I  must 
go  on,  and  yet  how  can  I  expose  her  to  these  perils?  I 
would  fain  stay  the  winter,  but  you  must  take  my  word  for 
it,  sir,  that  it  is  not  possible." 

"  Du  Lhut,  you  know  how  things  should  be  ordered," 
said  the  Seigneur.  "  What  should  you  advise  my  friend  to 
do,  since  he  is  so  set  upon  getting  to  the  English  provinces 
before  the  winter  comes  ?" 

The  dark  silent  pioneer  stroked  his  beard  with  his  hand 
as  he  pondered  over  the  question. 

"There  is  but  one  way,"  said  he,  at  last,  "though  even 
in  it  there  is  danger.  The  woods  are  safer  than  the  river, 
for  the  reeds  are  full  of  cached  canoes.  Five  leagues  from 
here  is  the  block-house  of  Poitou,  and  fifteen  miles  beyond, 
that  of  Auvergne.  We  will  go  to-morrow  to  Poitou  through 
the  woods,  and  see  if  all  be  safe.  I  will  go  with  you,  and  I 
give  you  my  word  that  if  the  Iroquois  are  there  Greysolon 
du  Lhut  will  know  it.  The  lady  we  shall  leave  here,  and  if 
we  find  that  all  is  safe  we  shall  come  back  for  her.  Then 
in  the  same  fashion  we  shall  advance  to  Auvergne,  and 
there  you  must  wait  until  you  hear  where  their  war  parties 
are.  It  is  my  mind  that  it  will  not  be  very  long  before  we 
know." 

"What !    You  would  part  us  !"  cried  Adele,  aghast. 

"  It  is  best,  my  sister,"  said  Onega,  passing  her  arm 
caressingly  round  her.  "  You  cannot  know  the  danger,  but 
we  know  it,  and  we  will  not  let  our  white  HJy  run  into  it. 
You  will  stay  here  to  gladden  us  while  the  great  chief  Du 
Lhut,  and  the  French  soldier,  your  husband,  and  the  old 
warrior  who  seems  so  wary,  and  the  other  chief  with  limbs 
like  the  wild  deer,  go  forward  through  the  woods  and  see 
that  all  is  well  before  you  venture." 

And  so  it  was  at  last  agreed,  and  Adele,  still  protesting, 
was  consigned  .to  the  care  of  the  lady  of  Sainte-Marie,  while 
de  Catinat  swore  that  without  a  pause  he  would  return  from 

300 


Poitou  to  fetch  her.  The  old  nobleman  and,  his  son  would 
fain  have  joined  them  in  their  adventure,  but  they  had  their 
own  charge  to  watch,  and  the  lives  of  many  in  their  keep- 
ing, while  a  small  party  were  safer  in  the  woods  than  a 
larger  one  would  be.  The  Seigneur  provided  them  with  a 
letter  for  de  Lannes,  the  Governor  of  the  Poitou  block- 
house, and  so  in  the  early  dawn  the  four  of  them  crept  like 
shadows  from  the  stockade  gate,  amid  the  muttered  good 
wishes  of  the  guard  within,  and  were  lost  in  an  instant  in 
the  blackness  of  the  vast  forest. 

From  La  Noue  to  Poitou  was  but  twelve  miles  down  the 
river,  but  by  the  woodland  route,  where  creeks  were  to  be 
crossed,  reed -girt  lakes  to  be  avoided,  and  paths  to  be 
picked  among  swamps  where  the  wild-rice  grew  higher  than 
their  heads,  and  the  alder-bushes  lay  in  dense  clumps  be- 
fore them,  the  distance  was  more  than  doubled.  They 
walked  in  single  file,  Du  Lhut  leading,  with  the  swift  silent 
tread  of  some  wild  creature,  his  body  bent  forward,  his  gun 
ready  in  the  bend  of  his  arm,  and  his  keen  dark  eyes  shoot- 
ing little  glances  to  right  and  left,  observing  everything,  from 
the  tiniest  mark  upon  ground  or  tree  trunk  to  the  motion 
of  every  beast  and  bird  of  the  brushwood.  De  Catinat 
walked  behind,  then  Ephraim  Savage,  and  then  Amos,  all 
with  their  weapons  ready,  and  with  every  sense  upon  the 
alert.  By  mid-day  they  were  more  than  half-way,  and  halt- 
ed in  a  thicket  for  a  scanty  meal  of  bread  and  cheese ;  for 
Du  Lhut  would  not  permit  them  to  light  a  fire. 

"  They  have  not  come  as  far  as  this,"  he  whispered,  "  and 
yet  I  am  sure  that  they  have  crossed  the  river.  Ah,  Gov- 
ernor de  la  Barre  did  not  know  what  he  did  when  he  stirred 
these  men  up,  and  this  good  dragoon  whom  the  King  has 
sent  us  now  knows  even  less." 

"  I  have  seen  them  in  peace,"  remarked  Amos.  "  I  have 
traded  to  Onondaga,  and  to  the  country  of  the  Senecas.  I 
know  them  as  fine  hunters  and  brave  men." 

"  They  are  fine  hunters,  but  the  game  that  they  hunt  best 
are  their  fellow-men.  I  have  myself  led  their  scalping  par- 
ties, and  I  have  fought  against  them,  and  I  tell  you  that 
when  a  general  comes  out  from  France  who  hardly  knows 

301 


enough  to  get  the  sun  behind  him  in  a  fight,  he  will  find 
that  there  is  little  credit  to  be  gained  from  them.  They 
talk  of  burning  their  villages  !  It  would  be  as  wise  to  kick 
over  the  wasps'  nest,  and  think  that  the  wasps  are  rendered 
less  harmful  by  that.  You  are  from  New  England,  mon- 
sieur ?" 

"  My  comrade  is  from  New  England ;  I  am  from  New 
York." 

"  Ah,  yes.  I  could  see  from  your  step  and  your  eye  that 
the  woods  were  as  a  home  to  you.  The  New  England  man 
goes  on  the  waters,  and  he  slays  the  cod  with  more  pleas- 
ure than  the  caribou.  Perhaps  that  is  why  his  face  is  so 
sad.  I  have  been  on  the  great  water,  and  I  remember  that 
my  face  was  sad  also.  There  is  little  wind,  and  so  I  think 
that  we  may  light  our  pipes  without  danger.  With  a  good 
breeze  I  have  known  a  burning  pipe  fetch  up  a  scalping 
party  from  two  miles  distance,  but  the  trees  stop  scent,  and 
the  Iroquois  noses  are  less  keen  than  the  Sioux  and  the 
Dakota.  God  help  you,  monsieur,  if  you  should  ever  have 
an  Indian  war.  It  is  bad  for  us,  but  it  would  be  a  thousand 
times  worse  for  you." 

"  And  why  ?" 

"  Because  we  have  fought  the  Indians  from  the  first,  and 
we  have  them  always  in  our  mind  when  we  build.  You  see 
how  along  this  river  every  house  and  every  hamlet  supports 
its  neighbor.  But  you — by  Ste.  Anne  of  Beaupre  !  it  made 
my  scalp  tingle  when  I  came  on  your  frontiers  and  saw  the 
lonely  farm-houses  and  little  clearings  out  in  the  woods,  with 
no  help  for  twenty  leagues  around.  An  Indian  war  is  a  pur- 
gatory for  Canada,  but  it  would  be  a  hell  for  the  English 
provinces." 

"  We  are  good  friends  with  the  Indians,"  said  Amos  ; 
"  we  do  not  wish  to  conquer." 

"  Your  people  have  a  way  of  conquering,  although  they 
say  that  they  do  not  wish  to  do  it,"  remarked  Du  Lhut ; 
"  now  with  us  we  bang  our  drums,  and  wave  our  flags,  and 
make  a  stir,  but  no  very  great  thing  has  come  of  it  yet. 
We  have  never  had  but  two  great  men  in  Canada.  One 
was  Monsieur  de  la  Salle,  who  was  shot  last  year  by  his 

302 


own  men  down  the  great  river ;  and  the  other,,  old  Fronte- 
nac,  will  have  to  come  back  again  if  New  France  is  not  to 
be  turned  into  a  desert  by  the  Five  Nations.  It  would  sur- 
prise me  little  if  by  this  time  two  years  the  white  and  gold 
flag  flew  only  over  the  rock  of  Quebec.  But  I  see  that  you 
look  at  me  impatiently,  Monsieur  de  Catinat,  and  I  know 
that  you  count  the  hours  until  we  are  back  at  Sainte-Marie 
again.  Forward,  then,  and  may  the  second  part  of  our 
journey  be  as  peaceful  as  the  first !" 

For  an  hour  or  more  they  picked  their  way  through  the 
woods,  following  in  the  steps  of  the  old  French  pioneer.  It 
was  a  lovely  day,  with  hardly  a  cloud  in  the  heavens,  and 
the  sun  streaming  down  through  the  thick  foliage  covered 
the  shaded  sward  with  a  delicate  net-work  of  gold.  Some- 
times where  the  woods  opened  they  came  out  into  the  pure 
sunlight,  but  only  to  pass  into  thick  glades  beyond,  where 
a  single  ray  here  and  there  was  all  that  could  break  its 
way  through  the  vast  leafy  covering.  It  would  have  been 
beautiful,  these  sudden  transitions  from  light  to  shade,  but 
with  the  feeling  of  impending  danger,  and  of  a  horror  ever 
lurking  in  these  shadows,  the  mind  was  tinged  with  awe 
rather  than  admiration.  Silently,  lightly,  the  four  men 
picked  their  steps  among  the  great  tree  trunks. 

Suddenly  Du  Lhut  dropped  upon  his  knees  and  stooped 
his  ear  to  the  ground.  He  ro'se,  shook  his  head,  and  walked 
on  with  a  grave  face,  casting  quick  little  glar\ces  into  the 
shadows  in  every  direction. 

"  Did  you  hear  something  ?"  whispered  Amos. 

Du  Lhut  put  his  finger  to  his  lips,  and  then  in  an  instant 
was  down  upon  his  face  with  his  ear  fixed  to  the  ground. 
He  sprang  up  with  the  look  of  a  man  who  has  heard  what 
he  expected  to  hear. 

"  Walk  on,"  said  he,  quietly,  "  and  behave  exactly  as  you 
have  done  all  day." 

"  What  is  it,  then  ?" 

"  Indians." 

"  In  front  of  us  ?" 

"  No ;  behind  us." 

"  What  are  they  doing  ?" 

303 


"  They  are  following  us." 

"  How  many  of  them  ?" 

"  Two,  I  think." 

The  friends  glanced  back  involuntarily  over  their  shoul- 
ders into  the  dense  blackness  of  the  forest.  At  one  point 
a  single  broad  shaft  of  light  slid  down  between  two  pines 
and  cast  a  golden  blotch  upon  their  track.  Save  for  this 
one  vivid  spot  all  was  sombre-and  silent. 

"  Do  not  look  round,"  whispered  Du  Lhut,  sharply ; 
"  walk  on  as  before." 

"  Are  they  enemies  ?" 

"  They  are  Iroquois." 

"And  pursuing  us?" 

"  No  ;  we  are  pursuing  them." 

"  Shall  we  turn,  then  ?" 

"No;  they  would  vanish  like  shadows." 

"  How  far  off  are  they  ?" 

"  About  two  hundred  paces,  I  think." 

"  They  cannot  see  us,  then  ?" 

"  I  think  not,  but  I  cannot  be  sure.  They  are  following 
our  trail,  I  think." 

"What  shall  we  do,  then  ?" 

"  Let  us  make  a  circle,  and  get  behind  them." 

Turning  sharp  to  the  left,  he  led  them  in  a  long  curve 
through  the  woods,  hurrying  swiftly  and  yet  silently  under 
the  darkest  shadow  of  the  trees.  Then  he  turned  again, 
and  presently  halted. 

"  This  is  our  own  track,"  said  he. 

"  Ay,  and  two  redskins  have  passed  over  it,"  cried  Amos, 
bending  down,  and  pointing  to  marks  which  were  entirely 
invisible  to  Ephraim  Savage  or  de  Catinat. 

"  A  full  grown  warrior  and  a  lad  on  his  first  war-path," 
said  Du  Lhut.  "  They  are  moving  fast,  you  see,  for  you  can 
hardly  see  the  heel-marks  of  their  moccasins.  They  walked 
one  behind  the  other.  Now  let  us  follow  them  as  they  fol- 
lowed us,  and  see  if  we  have  better  luck." 

He  sped  swiftly  along  the  trail,  with  his  musket  cocked 
in  his  hand,  the  others  following  hard  upon  his  heels,  but 
there  was  no  sound  and  no  sign  of  life  from  the  shadowy 
*  304 


woods  in  front  of  them.  Suddenly  Du  Lhut  stopped  and 
grounded  his  weapon. 

"  They  are  still  behind  us,"  he  said. 

"  Still  behind  us  ?" 

"  Yes.  This  is  the  point  where  we  branched  off.  They 
have  hesitated  a  moment,  as  you  can  see  by  their  foot- 
marks, and  then  they  have  followed  on." 

"  If  we  go  round  again  and  quicken  our  pace  we  may 
overtake  them." 

"No;  they  are  on  their  guard  now.  They  must  know 
that  it  could  only  be  on  their  account  that  we  went  back 
on  our  tracks.  Lie  here  behind  the  fallen  log,  and  we  shall 
see  if  we  can  catch  a  glimpse  of  them." 

A  great  rotten  trunk,  all  green  with  mould  and  blotched 
with  pink  and  purple  fungi,  lay  to  one  side  of  where  they 
stood.  Behind  this  the  Frenchman  crouched,  and  his  three 
companions  followed  his  example,  peering  through  the 
brushwood  screen  in  front  of  them.  Still  the  one  broad 
sheet  of  sunshine  poured  down  between  the  two  pines,  but 
all  else  was  as  dim  and  as  silent  as  a  vast  cathedral  with 
pillars  of  wood  and  roof  of  leaf.  Not  a  branch  that  creaked, 
nor  a  twig  that  snapped,  nor  any  sound  at  all  save  the  sharp 
barking  of  a  fox  somewhere  in  the  heart  of  the  forest.  A 
thrill  of  excitement  ran  through  the  nerves  of  de  Catinat. 
It  was  like  one  of  those  games  of  hide-and-seek  which  the 
court  used  to  play,  when  Louis  was  in  a  sportive  mood, 
among  the  oaks  and  yew  hedges  of  Versailles.  But  the 
forfeit  there  was  a  carved  fan,  or  a  box  of  bonbons,  and 
here  it  was  life. 

Ten  minutes  passed,  and  there  was  no  sign  of  any  living 
thing  behind  them. 

"  They  are  over  in  yonder  thicket,"  whispered  Du  Lhut, 
nodding  his  head  towards  a  dense  clump  of  brushwood  two 
hundred  paces  away. 

"Have  you  seen  them  ?" 

'•No." 

"  How  do  you  know,  then  ?" 

"  I  saw  a  squirrel  come  from  his  hole  in  the  great  white 
birch-tree  yonder.  He  scuttled  back  again  as  if  something 

305 


had  scared  him. ,    From  his  hole  he  can  see  down  into  that 
brushwood." 

"  Do  you  think  that  they  know  that  we  are  here  ?" 

"  They  cannot  see  us.  But  they  are  suspicious.  They 
fear  a  trap." 

"  Shall  we  rush  for  the  brushwood  ?" 

"  They  would  pick  two  of  us  off,  and  be  gone  like  shad- 
ows through  the  woods.  No  ;  we  had  best  go  on  our  way." 

"  But  they  will  follow  us." 

"I  hardly  think  that  they  will.  We  are  four,  and  they 
are  only  two  ;  and  they  know  now  that  we  are  on  our  guard, 
and  that  we  can  pick  up  a  trail  as  quickly  as  they  can  them- 
selves. Get  behind  these  trunks,  where  they  cannot  see  us. 
So !  Now  stoop  until  you  are  past  the  belt  of  alder-bushes. 
We  must  push  on  fast  now,  for  where  there  are  two  Iro- 
quois  there  are  likely  to  be  two  hundred  not  very  far  off." 

"Thank  God  that  I  did  not  bring  Adele !"  cried  de 
Catinat. 

"Yes,  monsieur;  it  is  well  for  a  man  to  make  a  comrade 
of  his  wife,  but  not  on  the  borders  of  the  Iroquois  country, 
nor  of  any  other  Indian  country  either." 

"  You  do  not  take  your  own  wife  with  you  when  you 
travel,  then  ?"  asked  the  soldier. 

"  Yes ;  but  I  do  not  let  her  travel  from  village  to  village. 
She  remains  in  the  wigwam." 

"  Then  you  leave  her  behind  ?" 

"  On  the  contrary,  she  is  always  there  to  welcome  me. 
By  Ste.  Anne  !  I  should  be  heavy  -  hearted  if  I  came  to 
any  village  between  this  and  the  bluffs  of  the  Illinois  and 
did  not  find  my  wife  waiting  to  greet  me." 

"  Then  she  must  travel  before  you  ?" 

Du  Lhut  laughed  heartily,  without,  however,  emitting  a 
sound. 

"  A  fresh  village,  a  fresh  wife,"  said  he.  "  But  I  never 
have  more  than  one  in  each,  for  it  is  shame  for  a  French- 
man to  set  an  evil  example  when  the  good  fathers  are 
spending  their  lives  so  freely  in  preaching  virtue  to  them. 
Ah!  here  is  the  Ajidaumo  Creek,  where  the  Indians  set 
the  sturgeon  nets.  It  is  still  seven  miles  to  Poitou." 

306 


"We  shall  be  there  before  nightfall,  then  ?" 

"  I  think  that  we  had  best  wait  for  night'fall  before  we 
make  our  way  in.  Since  the  Iroquois  scouts  are  out  as  far 
as  this,  it  is  likely  that  they  lie  thick  round  Poitou  ;  and  we 
may  find  the  last  step  the  worst,  unless  we  have  a  care ; 
the  more  so  if  these  two  get  in  front  of  us  to  warn  the 
others."  He  paused  a  moment  with  slanting  head  and 
sidelong  ear.  "  By  Ste.  Anne !"  he  muttered,  "  we  have 
not  shaken  them  off.  They  are  still  upon  our  trail." 

"  You  hear  them  ?" 

"  Yes ;  they  are  no  great  way  from  us.  They  will  find 
that  they  have  followed  us  once  too  often  this  time.  Now 
I  will  show  you  a  little  bit  of  woodcraft  which  may  be  new 
to  you.  Slip  off  your  moccasins,  monsieur." 

De  Catinat  pulled  off  his  shoes  as  directed,  and  Du  Lhut 
did  the  same. 

"Put  them  on  as  if  they  were  gloves,"  said  the  pioneer, 
and  an  instant  later  Ephraim  Savage  and  Amos  had  their 
comrades'  shoes  upon  their  hands. 

"  You  can  swing  your  muskets  over  your  back.  So  !  Now 
down  on  all-fours,  bending  yourselves  double,  with  your 
hands  pressing  hard  upon  the  earth.  That  is  excellent. 
Two  men  can  leave  the  trail  of  four.  Now  come  with  me, 
monsieur." 

He  flitted  from  tree  to  tree  on  a  line  which  was  parallel 
to  but  a  few  yards  distant  from  that  of  their  comrades. 
Then  suddenly  he  crouched  behind  a  bush  and  pulled  de 
Catinat  down  beside  him. 

"  They  must  pass  us  in  a  few  minutes,"  he  whispered. 
"  Do  not  fire  if  you  can  help  it."  Something  gleamed  in 
Du  Lhut's  hand,  and  his  comrade,  glancing  down,  saw  that 
he  had  drawn  a  keen  little  tomahawk  from  his  belt.  Again 
the  mad  wild  thrill  ran  through  the  soldier's  blood  as  he 
peered  through  the  tangled  branches  and  waited  for  what- 
ever might  come  out  of  the  dim  silent  aisles  of  tree  boles. 

And  suddenly  he  saw  something  move.  It  flitted  like 
a  shadow  from  one  trunk  to  the  other,  so  swiftly  that  de 
Catinat  could  not  have  told  whether  it  were  beast  or  hu- 
man. And  then  again  he  saw  it,  and  yet  again  —  some- 

307 


times  one  shadow,  sometimes  two  shadows — silent,  furtive, 
like  the  loup-garou  with  which  his  nurse  had  scared  him  in 
his  childhood.  Then  for  a  few  moments  all  was  still  once 
more ;  and  then  in  an  instant  there  crept  out  from  among 
the  bushes  the  most  terrible -looking  creature  that  ever 
walked  the  earth — an  Iroquois  chief  upon  the  war-trail. 

He  was  a  tall,  powerful  man,  and  his  bristle  of  scalp-locks 
and  eagle  feathers  made  him  look  like  a  giant  in  the  dim 
light,  for  a  good  eight  feet  lay  between  his  beaded  mocca- 
sin and  the  topmost  plume  of  his  head-gear.  One  side  of  his 
face  was  painted  in  soot,  ochre,  and  vermilion  to  resemble 
a  dog,  and  the  other  half  as  a  fowl,  so  that  the  front  view 
was  indescribably  grotesque  and  strange.  A  belt  of  wam- 
pum was  braced  round  his  loin-cloth,  and  a  dozen  scalp- 
locks  fluttered  out,  as  he  moved,  from  the  fringe  of  his  leg- 
gings. His  head  was  sunk  forward,  his  eyes  gleamed  with 
a  sinister  light,  and  his  nostrils  dilated  and  contracted  like 
those  of  an  excited  animal.  His  gun  was  thrown  forward, 
and  he  crept  along  with  bended  knees — peering,  listening, 
pausing,  hurrying  on,  a  breathing  image  of  caution.  Two 
paces  behind  him  walked  a  lad  of  fourteen,  clad  and  armed 
in  the  same  fashion,  but  without  the  painted  face,  and  with- 
out the  horrid  dried  trophies  upon  his  leggings.  It  was  his 
first  campaign,  and  already  his  eyes  shone  and  his  nostrils 
twitched  with  the  same  lust  for  murder  which  burned  within 
his  elder.  So  they  advanced,  silent,  terrible,  creeping  out 
of  the  shadows  of  the  wood  as  their  race  had  come  out 
of  the  shadows  of  history,  with  bodies  of  iron  and  tiger 
souls. 

They  were  just  abreast  of  the  bush,  when  something 
caught  the  eye  of  the  younger  warrior,  some  displaced  twig 
or  fluttering  leaf,  and  he  paused,  with  suspicion  in  every 
feature.  Another  instant  and  he  had  warned  his  com- 
panion, but.Du  Lhut  sprang  out  and  buried  his  hatchet  in 
the  skull  of  the  older  warrior.  De  Catinat  heard  a  dull 
crash,  as  when  an  axe  splinters  its  way  into  a  rotten  tree, 
and  the  man  fell  like  a  log,  laughing  horribly,  and  kicking 
and  striking  with  his  powerful  limbs.  The  younger  warrior 
sprang  like  a  deer  over  his  fallen  comrade,  and  dashed  on 

308 


into  the  wood;  but  an  instant  later  there  was  a  gunshct 
among  the  trees  in  front,  followed  by  a  faint  wailing  cry. 

"That  is  his  death-whoop,"  said  Du  Lhut,  composedly. 
"  It  was  a  pity  to  fire,  and  yet  it  was  better  than  letting 
him  go." 

As  he  spoke,  the  two  others  came  back,  Ephraim  ramming 
a  fresh  charge  into  his  musket. 

"  Who  was  laughing?"  asked  Amos. 

"  It  was'  he,"  said  Du  Lhut,  nodding  towards  the  dying 
warrior,  who  lay  with  his  head  in  a  horrible  puddle,  and  his 
grotesque  features  contorted  into  a  fixed  smile.  "It's  a 
custom  they  have  when  they  get  their  death-blow.  I've 
known  a  Seneca  chief  laugh  for  six  hours  on  end  at  the 
torture  stake.  Ah,  he's  gone !"  As  he  spoke,  the  Indian 
gave  a  last  spasm  with  his  hands  and  feet,  and  lay  rigid, 
grinning  up  at  the  ridge  of  blue  sky  above  him. 

"  He's  a  great  chief,"  said  Du  Lhut.  "  It  is  Brown 
Moose,  of  the  Mohawks,  and  the  other  is  his  second  son. 
We  have  drawn  first  blood,  but  I  do  not  think  that  it  will 
be  the  last,  for  the  Iroquois  do  not  allow  their  war  chiefs 
to  die  unavenged.  He  was  a  mighty  fighter,  as  you  may 
see  by  looking  at  his  neck." 

He  wore  a  peculiar  necklace,  which  seemed  to  de  Catinat 
to  consist  of  blackened  bean  pods  set  upon  a  string.  As 
he  stooped  over  it  he  saw,  to  his  horror,  that  they  were  not 
bean  pods,  but  withered  human  fingers. 

"  They  are  all  right  forefingers,"  said  Du  Lhut,  "  so  every 
one  represents  a  life.  There  are  forty-two  in  all.  Eighteen 
are  of  men  whom  he  has  slain  in  battle,  and  the  other 
twenty-four  have  been  taken  and  tortured." 

"  How  do  you  know  that  ?" 

"  Because  only  eighteen  have  their  nails  on.  If  the  pris- 
oner of  an  Iroquois  is  alive,  he  begins  always  by  biting  his 
nails  off.  You  see  that  they  are  missing  from  four-and- 
twenty." 

De  Catinat  shuddered.  What  demons  were  these  among 
whom  an  evil  fate  had  drifted  him !  And  was  it  possible 
that  his  Adele  should  fall  into  the  hands  of  such  fiends! 
No,  no  ;  surely  the  good  God,  for  whose  sake  they  had  suf- 

309 


fered  so  much,  would  not  permit  such  an  infamy.  And  yet 
as  evil  a  fate  had  come  on  other  women  as  tender  as  Adele, 
upon  other  men  as  loving  as  he.  What  hamlet  was  there 
in  Canada  which  had  not  such  stories  in  their  record  ?  A 
vague  horror  seized  him  as  he  stood  there.  We  know  more 
of  the  future  than  we  are  willing  to  admit,  away  down  in 
those  dim  recesses  of  the  soul  where  there  is  no  reason, 
but  only  instincts  and  impressions.  Now  some  impending 
terror  cast  its  cloud  over  him.  The  trees  round,  with  their 
great  protruding  limbs-,  were  like  shadowy  demons  thrust- 
ing out  their  gaunt  arms  to  seize  him.  The  sweat  burst 
from  his  forehead,  and  he  leaned  heavily  upon  his  musket. 

"By  Ste.  Eulalie!"  said  Du  Lhut,  "for  an  old  soldier, 
you  turn  very  pale,  monsieur,  at  a  little  bloodshed." 

"  I  am  not  well.  I  should  be  glad  of  a  sup  from  your 
eognac  bottle." 

"  Here  it  is,  comrade,  and  welcome.  Well,  I  may  as  well 
have  this  fine  scalp,  that  we  may  have  something  to  show 
for  our  walk."  He  held  the  Indian's  head  between  his 
knees,  and  in  an  instant,  with  a  sweep  of  his  knife,  had  torn 
off  the  hideous  dripping  trophy. 

"  Let  us  go  !"  cried  de  Catinat,  turning  away  in  disgur>t. 

"  Yes,  we  shall  go.  But  I  shall  also  have  this  wampum- 
belt  marked  with  the  totem  of  the  bear.  So!  And  the  gun, 
too.  Look  at  the  *  London '  printed  upon  the  lock.  Ah, 
Monsieur  Green,  Monsieur  Green,  it  is  not  hard  to  see 
where  the  enemies  of  France  get  their  arms." 

So  at  last  they  turned  away,  Du  Lhut  bearing  his  spoils, 
leaving  the  red  grinning  figure  stretched  under  the  silent 
trees.  As  they  passed  on  they  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  lad 
lying  doubled  up  among  the  bushes  where  he  had  fallen. 
The  pioneer  walked  very  swiftly  until  he  came  to  a  little 
stream  which  prattled  down  to  the  big  river.  Here  he 
slipped  off  his  shoes  and  leggings,  and  waded  down  it  with 
kis  companions  for  half  a  mile  or  so. 

"  They  will  follow  our  tracks  when  they  find  him,"  said 
he,  "  but  this  will  throw  them  off,  for  it  is  only  on  running 
water  that  an  Iroquois  can  find  no  trace.  And  now  we 
shall  lie  in  this  clump  until  nightfall,  for  we  are  little  over  a 

310 


mile  from  Fort  Poitou,  and  it  is  dangerous  tp  go  forward, 
for  the  ground  becomes  more  open." 

And  so  they  remained  concealed  among  the  alders  while 
the  shadows  turned  from  short  to  long,  and  the  white  drift- 
ing clouds  above  them  were  tinged  with  the  pink  of  the  set- 
ting sun.  Du  Lhut  coiled  himself  into  a  ball,  with  his  pipe 
between  his  teeth,  and  dropped  into  a  light  sleep,  pricking 
up  his  ears  and  starting  at  the  slightest  sound  from  the 
woods  around  them.  The  two  Americans  whispered  to- 
gether for  a  long  timey  Ephraim  telling  some  long  story  of 
the  cruise  of  the  brig  Industry,  bound  to  Jamestown  for 
sugar  and  molasses,  but  at  last  the  soothing  hum  of  a  gentle 
breeze  through  the  branches  lulled  them  off  also,  and  they 
slept.  De  Catinat  alone  remained  awake,  his  nerves  still 
in  a  tingle  from  that  strange,  sudden  shadow  which  had 
fallen  upon  his  soul.  What  could  it  mean  ?  Not,  surely, 
that  Adele  was  in  danger.  He  had  heard  of  such  warnings, 
but  had  he  not  left  her  in  safety  behind  cannons  and  stock- 
ades ?  By  the  next  evening  at  latest  he  would  see  her 
again.  As  he  lay  looking  up  through  the  tangle  of  copper 
leaves  at  the  sky  beyond,  his  mind  drifted  like  the  clouds 
above  him,  and  he  was  back  once  more  in  the  jutting  window 
in  the  Rue  Saint-Martin,  sitting  on  the  broad  bancal,  with 
its  Spanish-leather  covering,  with  the  gilt  wool  bale  creak- 
ing outside,  and  his  arm  round  shrinking,  timid  Adele,  she 
who  had  compared  herself  to  a  little  mouse  in  an  old  house, 
and  who  had  yet  had  courage  to  stay  by  his  side  through 
all  this  wild  journey.  And  then  again  he  was  back  at  Ver- 
sailles. Once  more  he  saw  the  brown  eyes  of  the  King, 
the  fair  bold  face  of  de  Montespan,  the  serene  features  of 
de  Maintenon  ;  once  more  he  rode  on  his  midnight  mission, 
was  driven  by  the  demon  coachman,  and  sprang  with  Amos 
upon  the  scaffold  to  rescue  the  most  beautiful  woman  in 
France.  So  clear  it  was  and  so  vivid  that  it  was  with  a 
start  that  he  came  suddenly  to  himself,  and  found  that  the 
night  was  creeping  on  in  an  American  forest,  and  that  Du 
Lhut  had  roused  himself  and  was  ready  for  a  start. 

"  Have  you  been  awake  ?"  asked  the  pioneer. 

"Yes." 

311 


"  Have  you  heard  anything  ?" 

"  Nothing  but  the  hooting  of  the  owl." 

"  It  seemed  to  me  in  my  sleep  that  I  heard  a  gunshot  in 
the  distance." 

"  In  your  sleep  ?" 

"  Yes  ;  I  hear  as  well  asleep  as  awake,  and  remember 
what  I  hear.  But  now  you  must  follow  me  close,  and  we 
shall  be  in  the  fort  soon." 

"  You  have  wonderful  ears  indeed,"  said  de  Catinat, 
as  they  picked  their  way  through  the  tangled  brushwood. 
"  How  could  you  hear  that  these  men  were  following  us  to- 
day ?  I  could  make  out  no  sound  when  they  were  within 
hand-touch  of  us." 

"  I  did  not  hear  them  at  first." 

"  You  saw  them  ?" 

"  No,  nor  that  either." 

"  Then  how  could  you  know  that  they  were  there  ?" 

"  I  heard  a  frightened  jay  flutter  among  the  trees  after  we 
were  past  it.  Then,  ten  minutes  later,  I  heard  the  same 
thing.  I  knew  then  that  there  was  some  one  on  our  trail, 
and  I  listened." 

"  Peste  !     You  are  a  woodman  indeed  !" 

"  I  believe  that  these  woods  are  swarming  with  Troquois, 
although  we  have  had  the  good-fortune  to  miss  them.  So 
great  a  chief  as  Brown  Moose  would  not  start  on  the  path 
with  a  small  following  nor  for  a  small  object.  They  must 
mean  mischief  upon  the  Richelieu.  You  are  not  sorry  now 
that  yoii  did  not  bring  madame  ?" 

"  I  thank  God  for  it !" 

"  The  woods  will  not  be  safe,  I  fear,  until  the  partridge- 
berries  are  out  once  more.  You  must  stay  at^ainte-Marie 
until  then,  unless  the  Seigneur  can  spare  men  to  guard 
you." 

"  I  had  rather  stay  there  forever  than  expose  my  wife  to 
such  devils." 

"Ay,  devils  they  are  if  ever  devils  walked  upon  earth. 
You  winced,  monsieur,  when  I  took  Brown  Moose's  scalp, 
but  when  you  have  seen  as  much  of  the  Indians  as  I  have, 
your  heart  will  be  as  hardened  as  mine.  And  now  we 

312 


are  on  the  very  borders  of  the  clearing,  and  the  block- 
house lies  yonder  among  the  clump  of  maples.  They  do 
not  keep  very  good  watch,  for  I  have  been  expecting  during 
these  last  ten  minutes  to  hear  the  qui  vive.  You  did  not 
come  as  near  to  Sainte- Marie  unchallenged,  and  yet  de 
Lannes  is  as  old  a  soldier  as  de  la  Noue.  We  can  scarce  see 
now,  but  yonder,  near  the  river,  is  where  he  exercises  his 
men. 

"  He  does  so  now,"  said  Amos.  "  I  see  a  dozen  of  them 
drawn  up  in  a  line  at  their  drill." 

"  No  sentinels,  and  all  the  men  at  drill !"  cried  Du  Lhut, 
in  contempt.  "  It  is  as  you  say,  however,  for  I  can  see  them 
myself,  with  their  ranks  open,  and  each  as  stiff  and  straight 
as  a  pine  stump.  One  would  think,  to  see  them  stand  so 
still,  that  there  was  not  an  Indian  nearer  than  Orange.  We 
shall  go  across  to  them,  and,  by  Ste.  Anne !  I  shall  tell  their 
commander  what  I  think  of  his  arrangements." 

Du  Lhut  advanced  from  the  bushes  as  he  spoke,  and  the 
four  men  crossed  the  open  ground  in  the  direction  of  the 
line  of  men  who  waited  silently  for  them  in  the  dim  twi- 
light. They  were  within  fifty  paces,  and  yet  none  of  them 
had  raised  hand  or  voice  to  challenge  their  approach. 
There  was  something  uncanny  in  the  silence,  and  a  change 
came  over  Du  Lhut's  face  as  he  peered  in  front  of  him.  He 
craned  his  head  round  and  looked  up  the  river. 

"  My  God  !"  he  screamed.     "  Look  at  the  fort !" 

They  had  cleared  the  clump  of  trees,  and  the  outline  of 
the  block-house  should  have  shown  up  in  front  of  them. 
There  was  no  sign  of  it.  It  was  gone. 


CHAPTER   XXXIV 
THE   MEN    OF   BLOOD 

So  unexpected  was  the  blow  that  even  Du  Lhut,  hardened 
from  his  childhood  to  every  shock  and  danger,  stood  shaken 
and  dismayed.  Then,  with  an  oath,  he  ran  at  the  top  of 
his  speed  towards  the  line  of  figures,  his  companions  fol- 
lowing at  his  heels. 

As  they  drew  nearer,  they  could  see  through  the  dusk 
that  it  was  not  indeed  a  line.  A  silent  and  motionless  offi- 
cer stood  out  some  twenty  paces  in  front  of  his  silent  and 
motionless  men.  Further,  they  could  see  that  he  wore  a 
very  high  and  singular  head-dress.  They  were  still  rushing 
forward,  breathless  with  apprehension,  when,  to  their  horror, 
this  head-dress  began  to  lengthen  and  broaden,  and  a  great 
bird  flapped  heavily  up,  and  dropped  down  again  on  the 
nearest  tree  trunk.  Then  they  knew  that  their  worst  fears 
were  true,  and  that  it  was  the  garrison  of  Poitou  which  stood 
before  them. 

They  were  lashed  to  low  posts  with  willow  withies,  some 
twenty  of  them,  naked  all,  and  twisted  and  screwed  into 
every  strange  shape  which  an  agonized  body  could  assume. 
In  front,  where  the  bird  had  perched,  was  the  gray-headed 
commandant,  with  two  cinders  thrust  into  his  sockets,  and 
his  flesh  hanging  from  him  like  a  beggar's  rags.  Behind 
was  the  line  of  men,  each  with  his  legs  charred  off  to  the 
knees,  and  his  body  so  haggled  and  scorched  and  burst  that 
the  willow  bands  alone  seemed  to  hold  it  together.  For  a 
moment  the  four  comrades  stared  in  silent  horror  at  the 
dreadful  group.  Then  each  acted  as  his  nature  bade  him. 
De  Catinat  staggered  up  against  a  tree  trunk,  and  leaned 
his  head  upon  his  arm,  deadly  sick ;  Du  Lhut  fell  down 


upon  his  knees,  and  said  something  to  Heaven,  with  his  two 
clinched  hands  shaking  up  at  the  darkening  'sky  ;  Ephraim 
Savage  examined  the  priming  of  his  gun,  with  a  tightened 
lip  and  a  gleaming  eye-,  while  Amos  Green,  without  a  word, 
began  to  cast  round  in  circles  in  search  of  a  trail. 

But  Du  Lhut  was  on  his  feet  again  in  a  moment,  and 
running  up  and  down  like  a  sleuth-hound,  noting  a  hundred 
things  which  even  Amos  would  have  overlooked.  He  circled 
round  the  bodies  again  and  again.  Then  he  ran  a  little 
way  towards  the  edge  of  the  woods,  and  then  came  back  to 
the  charred  ruins  of  th#  block-house,  from  some  of  which  a 
thin  reek  of  smoke  was  still  rising. 

"There  is  no  sign  of  the  women  and  children,"  said  he. 

"  My  God  !     There  were  women  and  children  !" 

"  They  are  keeping  the  children  to  burn  at  their  leisure 
in  their  villages.  The  women  they  may  torture  or  may 
adopt,  as  the  humor  takes  them.  But  what  does  the  old 
man  want  ?" 

"I  want  you  to  ask  him,  Amos,"  said  the  seaman,  "why 
we  are  yawing  and  tacking  here,  when  we  should  be  cracking 
on  all  sail  to  stand  after  them." 

Du  Lhut  smiled,  and  shook  his  head.  "  Your  friend  is  a 
brave  man,"  said  he,  "  if  he  thinks  that  with  four  men  we 
can  follow  a  hundred  and  fifty."  > 

"  Tell  him,  Amos,  that  the  Lord  will  bear  us  up,"  said 
the  other,  excitedly.  "  Say  that  He  will  be  with  us  against 
the  children  of  Jeroboam,  and  we  will  cut  them  off  utterly, 
and  they  shall  be  destroyed.  What  is  the  French  for  *  slay 
and  spare  not  ?'  I  had  as  soon  go  about  with  my  jaw 
braced  up  as  with  folk  who  cannot  understand  a  plain 
language." 

But  Du  Lhut  waved  aside  the  seaman's  suggestions.  "  We 
must  have  a  care  now,"  said  he,  "  or  we  shall  lose  -our  own 
scalps,  and  be  the  cause  of  those  at  Sainte-Marie  losing 
theirs  as  well." 

"  Sainte-Marie  !"  cried  de  Catinat.  "  Is  there,  then,  dan- 
ger at  Sainte-Marie  ?" 

"  Ay ;  they  are  in  the  wolf's  mouth  now.  This  business 
was  done  last  night.  The  place  was  stormed  by  a  war 


party  of  a  hundred  and  fifty  men.  This  morning  they  left, 
and  went  north  upon  foot.  They  have  been  cached  among 
the  woods  all  day  between  Poitou  and  Sainte-Marie." 

"  Then  we  have  come  through  them  !" 

"Yes,  we  have  come  through  them.  They  would  keep 
their  camp  to-day  and  send  out  scouts.  Brown  Moose  and 
his  son  were  among  them,  and  struck  our  trail.  To-night— 

"To-night  they  will  attack  Sainte-Marie  !" 

"  It  is  possible.  And  yet  with  so  small  a  party  I  should 
scarce  have  thought  that  they  would  have  dared.  Well,  we' 
can  but  hasten  back  as  quickly  as  *we  can,  and  give  them 
warning  of  what  is  hanging  over  them." 

And  so  they  turned  for  their  weary  backward  journey, 
though  their  minds  were  too  full  to  spare  a  thought  upon 
the  leagues  which  lay  behind  them,  or  those  which  were 
before.  Old  Ephraim,  less  accustomed  to  walking  than  his 
younger  comrades,  was  already  limping  and  foot-sore,  but, 
for  all  his  age,  he  was  as  tough  as  hickory  and  full  of  en- 
durance. Du  Lhut  took  the  lead  again,  and  they  turned 
their  faces  once  more  towards  the  north. 

The  moon  was  shining  brightly  in  the  sky,  but  it  was 
little  aid  to  the  travellers  in  the  depths  of  the  forest. 
Where  it  had  been  shadowy  in  the  daytime  it  was  now  so 
absolutely  dark  that  de  Catinat  could  not  see  the  tree 
trunks  against  which  he  brushed.  Here  and  there  they 
came  upon  an  open  glade  bathed  in  the  moonshine,  or  per- 
haps a  thin  shaft  of  silver  light  broke  through  between  the 
branches,  and  cast  a  great  white  patch  upon  the  ground, 
but  Du  Lhut  preferred  to  avoid  these  more  open  spaces, 
and  to  skirt  the  glades  rather  than  to  cross  them.  The 
breeze  had  freshened  a  little,  and  the  whole  air  was  filled 
with  the  rustle  and  sough  of  the  leaves.  Save  for  this  dull 
never-ceasing  sound,  all  would  have  been  silent  had  not  the 
owl  hooted  sometimes  from  among  the  tree-tops,  and  the 
night-jar  whirred  above  their  heads. 

Dark  as  it  was,  Du  Lhut  walked  as  swiftly  as  during  the 
sunlight,  and  never  hesitated  about  the  track.  His  com- 
rades could  see,  however,  that  he  was  taking  them  a  differ- 
ent way  to  that  which  they  had  gone  in  the  morning,  for 

316 


twice  they  caught  a  sight  of  the  glimmer  of  \he  broad  river 
upon  their  left,  while  before  they  had  only  seen  the  streams 
which  flowed  into  it.  On  the  second  occasion  he  pointed 
to  where  on  the  farther  side  they  could  see  dark  shadows 
flitting  over  the  water. 

"  Iroquois  canoes,"  he  whispered.  "  There  are  ten  of 
them  with  eight  men  in  each.  They  are  another  party,  and 
they  are  also  going  north." 

"  How  do  you  know  that  they  are  another  party  ?" 

"  Because  we  have  crossed  the  trail  of  the  first  within 
the  hour." 

De  Catinat  was  filled  with  amazement  at  this  marvellous 
man  who  could  hear  in  his  sleep,  and  could  detect  a  trail 
when  the  very  tree  trunks  were  invisible  to  ordinary  eyes. 
Du  Lhut  halted  a  little  to  watch  the  canoes,  and  then  turned 
his  back  to  the  river,  and  plunged  into  the  woods  once  more. 
They  had  gone  a  mile  or  two  when  suddenly  he  came  to  a 
dead  stop,  snuffing  at  the  air  like  a  hound  on  a  scent. 

"  I  smell  burning  wood,"  said  he.  "  There  is  a  fire  with- 
in a  mile  of  us  in  that  direction." 

"  I  smell  it  too,"  said  Amos.  "  Let  us  creep  up  that 
way  and  see  their  camp." 

"  Be  careful,  then,"  whispered  Du  Lhut,  "for  your  lives 
may  hang  from  a  cracking  twig." 

They  advanced  very  slowly  and  cautiously,  until  suddenly 
the  red  flare  of  a  leaping  fire  twinkled  between  the  distant 
trunks.  Still  slipping  through  the  brushwood,  they  worked 
round  until  they  had  found  a  point  from  which  they  could 
see  without  a  risk  of  being  seen. 

A  great  blaze  of  dry  logs  crackled  and  spurtled  in  the 
centre  of  a  small  clearing.  The  ruddy  flames  roared  up- 
ward, and  the  smoke  spread  out  above  it  until  it  looked 
like  a  strange  tree  with  gray  foliage  and  trunk  of  fire.  But 
no  living  being  was  in  sight,  and  the  huge  fire  roared  and 
swayed  in  absolute  solitude  in  the  midst  of  the  silent  wood- 
lands. Nearer  they  crept  and  nearer,  but  there  was  no 
movement  save  the  rush  of  the  flames,  and  no  sound  but 
the  snapping  of  the  sticks. 

"  Shall  we  go  up  to  it  ?"  whispered  de  Catinat. 
31? 


The  wary  pioneer  shook  his  head.  "  It  may  be  a  trap," 
said  he. 

"  Or  an  abandoned  camp  ?" 

"  No ;  it  has  not  been  lit  more  than  an  hour." 

"  Besides,  it  is  far  too  great  for  a  camp-fire,"  said  Amos. 

"  What  do  you  make  of  it  ?"  asked  Du  Lhut. 

"  A  signal." 

"  Yes.  I  dare  say  that  you  are  right.  This  light  is  not 
a. safe  neighbor,  so  we  shall  edge  away  from  it,  and  then 
make  a  straight  line  for  Sainte-Marie." 

The  flames  were  soon  but  a  twinkling  point  behind  them, 
and  at  last  vanished  behind  the  trees.  Du  Lhut  pushed  on 
rapidly,  until  they  came  to  the  edge  of  a  moonlit  clearing. 
He  was  about  to  skirt  this,  as  he  had  done  others,  when 
suddenly  he  caught  de  Catinat  by  the  shoulder  and  pushed 
him  down  behind  a  clump  of  sumac,  while  Amos  did  the 
same  with  Ephraim  Savage. 

A  man  was  walking  down  the  other  side  of  the  open 
space.  He  had  just  emerged,  and  was  crossing  it  diago- 
nally, making  in  the  direction  of  the  river.  His  body  was 
bent  double,  but  as  he  came  out  from  the  shadow  of  the 
trees  they  could  see  that  he  was  an  Indian  brave  in  full 
war-paint,  with  leggings,  loin-cloth,  and  musket.  Close  at 
his  heels  came  a  second,  and  then  a  third  and  a  fourth,  on 
and  on,  until  it  seemed  as  if  the  wood  was  full  of  men,  and 
that  the  line  would  never  come  to  an  end.  They  flitted 
past  like  shadows  in  the  moonlight,  in  absolute  silence, 
all  crouching  and  running  in  the  same  swift,  stealthy  fash- 
ion. Last  of  all  came  a  man  in  the  fringed  tunic  of  a  hunt- 
er, with  a  cap  and  feather  upon  his  head.  He  passed 
across  like  the  others,  and  they  vanished  into  the  shadows 
as  silently  as  they  had  appeared.  It  was  five  minutes  be- 
fore Du  Lhut  thought  it  safe  to  rise  from  their  shelter. 

"  By  Ste.  Anne  !"  he  whispered.    "  Did  you  count  them  ?" 

"  Three  hundred  and  ninety-six,"  said  Amos. 

"  I  made  it  four  hundred  and  two." 

"  And  you  thought  that  there  were  only  a  hundred  and 
fifty  of  them  !"  cried  de  Catinat. 

"  Ah,  you  do  not  understand.  This  is  a  fresh  band. 
318 


The  others  who  took  the  block-house  mus*  be  over  there, 
for  their  trail  lies  between  us  and  the  river." 

"  They  could  not  be  the  same,"  said  Amos,  "  because 
there  was  not  a  fresh  scalp  among  them." 

Du  Lhut  gave  the  young  hunter  a  glance  of  approval. 
"  On  my  word,"  said  he,  "  I  did  not  know  that  your  woods- 
men are  as  good  as  they  seem  to  be.  You  have  eyes, 
monsieur,  and  it  may  please  you  some  day  to  remember 
that  Greysolon  du  Lhut  told  you  so." 

Amos  felt  a  flush  of  pride  at  these  words  from  a  man 
whose  name  was  honored  wherever  trader  or  trapper 
smoked  round  a  camp-fire.  He  was  about  to  make  some 
answer,  when  a  dreadful  cry  broke  suddenly  out  of  the 
woods,  a  horrible  screech,  as  from  some  one  who  was  goaded 
to  the  very  last  pitch  of  human  misery.  Again  and  again 
as  they  stood  with  blanched  cheeks  in  the  darkness  they 
heard  that  awful  cry  swelling  up  from  the  night,  and  ringing 
drearily  through  the  forest. 

"  They  are  torturing  the  women,"  said  Du  Lhut.  "  Their 
camp  lies  over  there." 

"  Can  we  do  nothing  to  aid  them  ?"  cried  Amos. 

"  Ay,  ay,  lad,"  said  the  captain,  in  English.  "  We  can't 
pass  distress  signals  without  going  out  of  our  course.  Let 
us  put  about  and  run  down  yonder." 

"  In  that  camp,"  said  Du  Lhut,  slowly,  "  there  are  now 
nearly  six  hundred  warriors.  We  are  four.  What  you  say 
has  no  sense.  Unless  we  warn  them  at  Sainte-Marie,  these 
devils  will  lay  some  trap  for  them.  Their  parties  are  as- 
sembling by  land  and  by  water,  and  there  may  be  a  thou- 
sand before  daybreak.  Our  duty  is  to  push  on  and  give 
our  warning." 

"  He  speaks  the  truth,"  said  Amos  to  Ephraim.  "Nay, 
but  you  must  not  go  alone  !"  He  seized  the  stout  old  sea- 
man by  the  arm  and  held  him  by  main  force  to  prevent 
him  from  breaking  off  through  the  woods. 

"There  is  one  thing  which  we  can  do  to  spoil  their 
night's  amusement,"  said  Du  Lhut.  "  The  woods  are  as 
dry  as  powder,  and  there  has  been  no  drop  of  rain  here  for 


a  long  three  months." 


319 


"  Yes  ?" 

"  And  the  wind  blows  straight  for  their  camp,  with  the 
river  on  the  other  side  of  it." 

"  We  should  fire  the  woods  !" 

"  We  cannot  do  better." 

In  an  instant  Du  Lhut  had  scraped  together  a  bundle  of 
dry  twigs,  and  had  heaped  them  up  against  a  withered 
beech-tree  which  was  as  dry  as  tinder.  A  stroke  of  flint 
and  steel  was  enough  to  start  a  little  smoulder  of  flame, 
which  lengthened  and  spread  until  it  was  leaping  along 
the  white  strips  of  hanging  bark.  A  quarter  of  a  mile  far- 
ther on  Du  Lhut  did  the  same  again,  and  once  more  be- 
yond that,  until  at  three  different  points  the  forest  was  in  a 
blaze.  As  they  hurried  onward  they,  could  hear  the  dull 
roaring  of  the  flames  behind  them,  and  at  last,  as  they 
neared  Sainte-Marie,  they  could  see,  looking  back,  the  long 
rolling  wave  of  fire  travelling  ever  westward  towards  the 
Richelieu,  and  flashing  up  into  great  spouts  of  flame  as  it 
licked  up  a  clump  of  pines  as  if  it  were  a  bundle  of  fagots. 
Du  Lhut  chuckled  in  his  silent  way  as  he  looked  back  at 
the  long  orange  glare  in  the  sky. 

"  They  will  need  to  swim  for  it,  some  of  them,"  said  he. 
"  They  have  not  canoes  to  take  them  all  off.  Ah,  if  I  had 
but  two  hundred  of  my  coureurs  de  bois  on  the  river  at  the 
farther  side  of  them  not  one  would  get  away." 

"They  had  one  who  was  dressed  like  a  white  man," 
remarked  Amos. 

"  Ay,  and  the  most  deadly  of  the  lot.  His  father  was  a 
Dutch  trader,  his  mother  an  Iroquois,  and  he  goes  by  the 
name  of  the  Flemish  Bastard.  Ah,  I  know  him  well,  and  I 
tell  you  if  they  want  a  king  in  hell  they  will  find  one  all 
ready  in  his  wigwam.  By  Ste.  Anne  !  I  have  a  score  to  settle 
with  him,  and  I  may  pay  it  before  this  business  is  over. 
Well,  there  are  the  lights  of  Sainte-Marie  shining  down  be- 
low. I  can  understand  that  sigh  of  relief,  monsieur,  for  on 
my  word,  after  what  we  found  at  Poitou,  I  was  uneasy  my- 
self until  I  should  see  them." 

320 


CHAPTER    XXXV 
THE   TAP    OF   DEATH 

DAY  was  just  breaking  as  the  four  comrades  entered  the 
gate  of  the  stockade,  but  early  as  it  was  the  censitaires  and 
their  families  were  all  afoot  staring  at  the  prodigious  fire 
which  raged  to  the  south  of  them.  De  Catinat  burst  through 
the  throng  and  rushed  up-stairs  to  A  dele,  who  had  herself 
flown  down  to  meet  him,  so  that  they  met  in  each  other's  arms 
half-way  up  the  great  stone  staircase  with  a  burst  of  those  lit- 
tle inarticulate  cries  which  are  the  true  unwritten  language  of 
love.  Together,  with  his  arm  round  her,  they  ascended  to 
the  great  hall  where  old  de  la  Noue  with  his  son  was  peer- 
ing out  of  the  window  at  the  wonderful  spectacle. 

"  Ah,  monsieur,"  said  the  old  nobleman,  with  his  courtly 
bow,  "  I  am  indeed  rejoiced  to  see  you  safe  under  my  roof 
again,  not  only  for  your  own  sake,  but  for  that  of  madame's 
eyes,  which,  if  she  will  permit  an  old  man  to  say  so,  are 
much  too  pretty  to  spoil  by  straining  them  all  day  in  the 
hope  of  seeing  some  one  coming  out  of  the  forest.  You 
have  done  forty  miles,  Monsieur  de  Catinat,  and  are  doubt- 
less hungry  and  weary.  When  you  are  yourself  again  I 
must  claim  my  revenge  in  piquet,  for  the  cards  lay  against 
me  the  other  night." 

But  Du  Lhut  had  entered  at  de  Catinat's  heels  with  his 
tidings  of  disaster. 

"  You  will  have  another  game  to  play,  Monsieur  de  Sainte- 
Marie,"  said  he.  "There  are  six  hundred  Iroquois  in  the 
woods,  and  they  are  preparing  to  attack." 

"  Tut,  tut,  we  cannot  allow  our  arrangements  to  be  altered 
by  a  handful  of  savages,"  said  the  Seigneur.  "  I  must  apolo- 
gize to  you,  my  dear  de  Catinat,  that  you  should  be  annoyed 

321 


by  such  people  while  you  are  upon  my  estate.  As  regards 
the  piquet,  I  cannot  but  think  that  your  play  from  king  and 
knave  is  more  brilliant  than  safe.  Now  when  I  played 
piquet  last  with  de  Lannes  of  Poitou — 

"  De  Lannes  of  Poitou  is  dead  and  all  his  people,"  said 
Du  Lhut.  "The  block-house  is  a  heap  of  smoking  ashes." 

The  Seigneur  raised  his  eyebrows  and  took  a  pinch  of 
snuff,  tapping  the  lid  of  his  little  round  gold  box. 

"  I  always  told  him  that  his  fort  would  be  taken  unless 
he  cleared  away  those  maple- trees  which  grew  up  to  the 
very  walls.  They  are  all  dead,  you  say?" 

"Every  man." 

"  And  the  fort  burned?" 

"  Not  a  stick  was  left  standing." 

"  Have  you  seen  these  rascals  ?" 

"We  saw  the  trail  of  a  hundred  and  fifty.  Then  there 
were  a  hundred  in  canoes,  and  a  war-party  of  four  hundred 
passed  us  under  the  Flemish  Bastard.  Their  camp  is  five 
miles  down  the  river,  and  there  cannot  be  less  than  six 
hundred." 

"  You  are  fortunate  in  escaping  them." 

"  But  they  were  not  so  fortunate  in  escaping  us.  We 
killed  Brown  Moose  and  his  son,  and  we  fired  the  woods  so 
as  to  drive  them  out  of  their  camp." 

"Excellent!  Excellent!"  said  the  Seigneur,  clapping 
gently  with  his  dainty  hands.  "  You  have  done  very  well 
indeed,  Du  Lhut !  You  are,  I  presume,  very  tired  ?" 

"  I  am  not  often  tired.  I  am  quite  ready  to  do  the  jour- 
ney again." 

"  Then  perhaps  you  would  pick  a  few  men  and  go  back 
into  the  woods  to  see  what  these  villains  are  doing  ?" 

"  I  shall  be  ready  in  five  minutes." 

"  Perhaps  you  would  like  to  go  also,  Achille  ?" 

His  son's  dark  eyes  and  Indian  face  lit  up  with  a  fierce 

j°y- 

"  Yes,  I  shall  go  also,"  he  answered. 

"  Very  good,  and  we  shall  make  all  ready  in  your  absence. 
Madame,  you  will  excuse  these  little  annoyances  which  mar 
the  pleasure  of  your  visit.  Next  time  that  you  do  me  the 

322 


honor  to  come  here,  I  trust  that  we  shall  have  cleared  all 
these  vermin  from  my  estate.  We  have  our  advantages. 
The  Richelieu  is  a  better  fish-pond,  and  these  forests  are  a 
finer  deer  preserve  than  any  of  which  the  King  can  boast. 
But,  on  the  other  hand,  we  have,  as  you  see,  our  little  troubles. 
You  will  excuse  me  now,  as  there  are  one  or  two  things 
which  demand  my  attention.  De  Catinat,  you  are  a  tried 
soldier,  and  I  should  be  glad  of  your  advice.  Onega,  give 
me  my  lace  handkerchief  and  my  cane  of  clouded  amber, 
and  take  care  of  madame  until  her  husband  and  I  return." 

It  was  bright  daylight  now,  and  the  square  enclosure 
within  the  stockade  was  filled  with  an  anxious  crowd  who  had 
just  learned  the  evil  tidings.  Most  of  the  censitaires  were 
old  soldiers  and  trappers  who  had  served  in  many  Indian 
wars,  and  whose  swarthy  faces  and  bold  bearing  told  their 
own  story.  They  were  sons  of  a  race  which,  with  better 
fortune,  or  with  worse,  has  burned  more  powder  than  any 
other  nation  upon  earth,  and  as  they  stood  in  little  groups 
discussing  the  situation  and  examining  their  arms,  a  leader 
could  have  asked  for  no  more  hardy  or  more  warlike  follow- 
ing. The  women,  however,  pale  and  breathless,  were  hur- 
rying in  from  the  outlying  cottages,  dragging  their  children 
with  them,  and  bearing  over  their  shoulders  the  more  pre- 
cious of  their  household  goods.  The  confusion,  the  hurry, 
the  cries  of  the  children,  the  throwing  down  of  bundles, 
and  the  rushing  back  for  more,  contrasted  strangely  with 
the  quiet  and  the  beauty  of  the  woods  which  encircled 
them,  all  bathed  in  the  bright  morning  sunlight.  It  was 
strange  to  look  upon  the  fairy  loveliness  of  their  many- 
tinted  foliage,  and  to  know  that  the  spirit  of  murder  and 
cruelty  was  roaming  unchained  behind  that  lovely  screen. 

The  scouting  party  under  Du  Lhut  and  Achille  de  la 
Noue  had  already  left,  and  at  the  orders  of  the  Seigneur 
the  two  gates  were  now  secured  with  huge  bars  of  oak  fitted 
into  iron  staples  on  either  side.  The  children  were  placed 
in  the  lower  storeroom  with  a  few  women  to  watch  them, 
while  the  others  were  told  off  to  attend  to  the  fire-buckets, 
and  to  reload  the  muskets.  The  men  had  been  paraded, 
fifty-two  of  them  in  all,  and  they  were  divided  into  parties 
'  z  323 


now  for  the  defence  of  each  part  of  the  stockade.  On  one 
side  it  had  been  built  up  to  within  a  few  yards  of  the  river, 
which  not  only  relieved  them  from  the  defence  of  that  face, 
but  enabled  them  to  get  fresh  water  by  throwing  a  bucket 
at  the  end  of  a  rope  from  the  stockade.  The  boats  and 
canoes  of  Sainte- Marie  were  drawn  up  on  the  bank  just 
under  the  wall,  and  were  precious  now  as  offering  a  last 
means  of  escape  should  all  else  fail.  The  next  fort,  St. 
Louis,  was  but  a  few  leagues  up  the  river,  and  de  la  Noue 
had  already  sent  a  swift  messenger  to  them  with  news  of 
the  danger.  At  least  it  would  be  a  point  on  which  they 
might  retreat  should  the  worst  come  to  the  worst. 

And  that  the  worst  might  come  to  the  worst  was  very 
evident  to  so  experienced  a  woodsman  as  Amos  Green. 
He  had  left  Ephraim  Savage  snoring  in  a  deep  sleep  upon 
the  floor,  and  was  now  walking  round  the  defences  with  his 
pipe  in  his  mouth,  examining  with  a  critical  eye  every  de- 
tail in  connection  with  them.  The  stockade  was  very 
strong,  nine  feet  high,  and  closely  built  of  oak  stakes, 
which  were  thick  enough  to  turn  a  bullet.  Half-way  up  it 
was  loop-holed  in  long  narrow  slits  for  the  fire  of  the  de- 
fenders. But,  on  the  other  hand,  the  trees  grew  to  within  a 
hundred  yards  of  it,  and  formed  a  screen  for  the  attack, 
while  the  garrison  was  so  scanty  that  it  could  not  spare 
more  than  twenty  men  at  the  utmost  for  each  face.  Amos 
knew  how  daring  and  dashing  were  the  Iroquois  warriors, 
how  cunning  and  fertile  of  resource,  and  his  face  darkened 
as  he  thought  of  the  young  wife  who  had  come  so  far  in 
their  safe-keeping,  and  of  the  women  and  children  whom 
he  had  seen  crowding  into  the  fort. 

"  Would  it  not  be  better  if  you  could  send  them  up  the 
river  ?"  he  suggested  to  the  Seigneur. 

"  I  should  very  gladly  do  so,  monsieur,  and  perhaps,  if 
we  are  all  alive,  we  may  manage  it  to-night  if  the  weather 
should  be  cloudy,  but  I  cannot  spare  the  men  to  guard 
them,  and  I  cannot  send  them  without  a  guard  when  we 
know  that  Iroquois  canoes  are  on  the  river,  and  their  scouts 
are  swarming  on  the  banks." 

"  You  are  right.     It  would  be  madness." 
324 


"I  have  stationed  you  on  this  eastern  face  with  your 
friends,  and  with  fifteen  men.  Monsieur  de  Catinat,  will 
you  command  the  party  ?" 

"  Willingly." 

"  I  will  take  the  south  face,  as  it  seems  to  be  the  point 
of  danger.  Du  Lhut  can  take  the  north,  and  five  men 
should  be  enough  to  watch  the  river  side." 

"  Have  we  food  and  powder  ?" 

"  I  have  flour  and  smoked  eels  enough  to  see  this  mat- 
ter through.  Poor  fare,  my  dear  sir,  but  I  dare  say  you 
learned  in  Holland  that  a  cup  of  ditch-water  after  a  brush 
may  have  a  better  smack  than  the  blue-sealed  Frontiniac 
which  you  helped  me  to  finish  the  other  night.  As  to  pow- 
der, we  have  all  our  trading  stores  to  draw  upon.'' 

"  We  have  not  time  to  clear  any  of  these  trees  ?"  asked 
the  soldier. 

"  Impossible.  They  would  make  better  cover  down  than 
up." 

"But  at  least  I  might  clear  that  patch  of  brushwood 
round  the  birch  sapling  which  lies  between  the  east  face 
and  the  edge  of  the  forest.  It  is  good  cover  for  their  skir- 
mishers." 

"Yes,  that  should  be  fired  without  delay." 

"Nay,  I  think  that  I  might  do  better,"  said  Amos. 
"  We  might  bait  a  trap  for  them  there.  Where  is  this  pow- 
der of  which  you  spoke  ?" 

"Theuriet,  the  major-domo,  is  giving  out  powder  in  the 
main  storehouse." 

"Very  good."  Amos  vanished  up -stairs,  and  returned 
with  a  large  linen  bag  in  his  hand.  This  he  filled  with 
powder,  and  then,  slinging  it  over  his  shoulder,  he  carried  it 
out  to  the  clump  of  bushes  and  placed  it  at  the  base  of  the 
sapling,  cutting  a  strip  out  of  the  bark  immediately  above 
the  spot.  Then  with  a  few  leafy  branches  and  fallen 
leaves  he  covered  the  powder-bag  very  carefully  over,  so 
that  it  looked  like  a  little  hillock  of  earth.  Having  ar- 
ranged all  to  his  satisfaction  he  returned,  clambering  over 
the  stockade,  and  dropping  down  upon  the  other  side. 

"  I  think  that  we  are  all  ready  for  them  now,"  said  the 
325 


Seigneur.  "  I  would  that  the  women  and  children  were  in 
a  safe  place,  but  we  may  send  them  down  the  river  to- 
night if  all  goes  well.  Has  any  one  heard  anything  of  Du 
Lhut?" 

"Jean  has  the  best  ears  of  any  of  us,  your  excellency," 
said  one  man  from  beside  the  brass  corner  cannon.  "  He 
thought  that  he  heard  shots  a  few  minutes  ago/' 

"  Then  he  has  come  into  touch  of  them.  Etienne,  take 
ten  men  and  go  to  the  withered  oak  to  cover  them  if  they 
are  retreating,  but  do  not  go  another  yard  on  any  pretext. 
I  am  too  short-handed  already.  Perhaps,  de  Catinat,  you 
wish  to  sleep  ?" 

"  No,  I  could  not  sleep." 

"We  can  do  no  more  down  here.  What  do  you  say  to 
a  round  or  two  of  piquet  ?  A  little  turn  of  the  cards  will 
help  us  to  pass  the  time." 

They  ascended  to  the  upper  hall  where  Adele  came  and 
sat  by  her  husband,  while  the  swarthy  Onega  crouched  by 
the  window,  looking  keenly  out  into  the  forest.  De  Catinat 
had  little  thought  to  spare  upon  the  cards,  as  his  mind  wan- 
dered to  the  danger  which  threatened  them,  and  to  the 
woman  whose  hand  rested  upon  his  own.  The  old  noble- 
man, on  the  other  hand,  was  engrossed  by  the  play,  and 
cursed  under  his  breath,  or  chuckled  and  grinned  as  the 
luck  swayed  one  way  or  the  other.  Suddenly  as  they 
played  there  came  two  sharp  raps  from  without. 

"  Some  one  is  tapping,"  cried  Adele. 

"  It  is  death  that  is  tapping,"  said  the  Indian  woman  at 
the  window. 

"  Ay,  ay,  it  was  the  patter  of  two  spent  balls  against  the 
wood-work.  The  wind  is  against  our  hearing  the  report. 
The  cards  are  shuffled.  It  is  my  cut  and  your  deal.  The 
capot,  I  think,  was  mine." 

"  Men  are  rushing  from  the  woods  !"  cried  Onega. 

"  Tut !  It  grows  serious  !"  said  the  nobleman.  "  We 
can  finish  the  game  later.  Remember  that  the  deal  lies 
with  you.  Let  us  see  what  it  all  means." 

De  Catinat  had  already  rushed  to  the  window.  Du 
Unit,  young  Achille  de  la  Noue,  and  eight  of  the  covering 

326 


party  were  running  with  their  heads  bent*  towards  the 
stockade,  the  door  of  which  had  been  opened  to  admit 
them.  Here  and  there  from  behind  the  trees  came  little 
blue  puffs  of  smoke,  and  one  of  the  fugitives  who  wore 
white  calico*  breeches  began  suddenly  to  hop  instead  of 
running,  and  a  red  splotch  showed  upon  the  white  cloth. 
Two  others  threw  their  arms  round  him,  and  the  three 
rushed  in  abreast  while  the  gate  swung  into  its  place  be- 
hind them.  An  instant  later  the  brass  cannon  at  the  cor- 
ner gave  a  flash  and  a  roar,  while  the  whole  outline  of  the 
wood  was  traced  in  a  rolling  cloud,  and  the  shower  of 
bullets  rapped  up  against  the  wooden  wall  like  hail  upon  a 
casement. 


CHAPTER   XXXVI 
THE    TAKING   OF    THE    STOCKADE 

HAVING  left  Adele  to  the  care  of  her  Indian  hostess, 
and  warned  her  for  her  life  to  keep  from  the  windows,  de 
Catinat  seized  his  musket  and  rushed  down-stairs.  As  he 
passed,  a  bullet  came  piping  through  one  of  the  narrow 
embrasures,  and  starred  itself  in  a  little  blotch  of  lead 
upon  the  opposite  wall.  The  Seigneur  had  already  de- 
scended, and  was  conversing  with  Du  Lhut  beside  the 
door. 

"  A  thousand  of  them,  you  say  ?" 

"  Yes ;  we  came  on  a  fresh  trail  of  a  large  war-party— 
three  hundred  at  the  least.  They  are  all  Mohawks  and 
Cayugas,  with  a  sprinkling  of  Oneidas.  We  had  a  running 
fight  for  a  few  miles,  and  we  have  lost  five  men." 

"All  dead,  I  trust." 

"  I  hope  so,  but  we  were  hard  pressed  to  keep  from  being 
cut  off.  Jean  Mance  is  shot  through  the  leg." 

"  I  saw  that  he  was  hit." 

"  We  had  best  have  all  ready  to  retire  to  the  house  if 
they  carry  the  stockade.  We  can  scarce  hope  to  hold  it 
when  they  are  twenty  to  one." 

"  All  is  ready." 

"  And  with  our  cannon  we  can  keep  their  canoes  from 
passing,  so  we  might  send  our  women  away  to-night." 

"  I  had  intended  to  do  so.  Will  you  take  charge  of  the 
north  side  ?  You  might  come  across  to  me  with  ten  of 
your  men  now,  and  I  shall  go  back  to  you  if  they  change 
their  attack." 

The  firing  came  in  one  continuous  rattle  now  from  the 
edge  of  the  wood,  and  the  air  was  full  of  bullets.  The  as- 

328 


sailants  were  all  trained  shots,  men  who  had1  lived  by  their 
guns,  and  to  whom  a  shaking  hand  or  a  dim  eye  meant 
poverty  and  hunger.  Every  slit  and  crack  and  loop-hole 
was  marked,  and  a  cap  held  above  the  stockade  was  blown 
in  an  instant  from  the  gun -barrel  which  supported  it. 
On  the  other  hand,  the  defenders  were  also  skilled  in  Ind- 
ian fighting,  and  wise  in  every  trick  and  lure  which  could 
protect  themselves  or  tempt  their  enemies  to  show.  They 
kept  well  to  the  sides  of  the  loop-holes,  watching  through 
little  crevices  of  the  wood,  and  firing  swiftly  when  a  chance 
offered.  A  red  leg  sticking  straight  up  into  the  air  from 
behind  a  log  showed  where  one  bullet  at  least  had  gone 
home,  but  there  was  little  to  aim  at  save  a  puff  and  flash 
from  among  the  leaves,  or  the  shadowy  figure  of  a  warrior 
seen  for  an  instant  as  he  darted  from  one  tree-trunk  to  the 
other.  Seven  of  the  Canadians  had  already  been  hit,  but 
only  three  were  mortally  wounded.  The  other  four  still 
kept  manfully  to  their  loop  •  holes,  though  one  who  had 
been  struck  through  the  jaw  was  spitting  his  teeth  with  his 
bullets  down  into  his  gun-barrel.  The  women  sat  in  a  line 
upon  the  ground,  beneath  the  level  of  the  holes,  each  with 
a  saucerful  of  bullets  and  a  canister  of  powder,  passing  up 
the  loaded  guns  to  the  fighting-men  at  the  points  where  a 
quick  fire  was  most  needful. 

At  first  the  attack  had  been  all  upon  the  south  face,  but 
as  fresh  bodies  of  the  Iroquois  came  up  their  line  spread 
and  lengthened  until  the  whole  east  face  was  girt  with  fire, 
which  gradually  enveloped  the  north  also.  The  fort  was 
ringed  in  by  a  great  loop  of  smoke,  save  only  where  the 
broad  river  flowed  past  them.  Over  near  the  farther  bank 
the  canoes  were  lurking ;  and  one,  manned  by  ten  warriors, 
attempted  to  pass  up  the  stream,  but  a  good  shot  from  the 
brass  gun  dashed  in  her  side  and  sank  her,  while  a  second 
of  grape  left  only  four  of  the  swimmers,  whose  high  scalp- 
locks  stood  out  above  the  water  like  the  back  fins  of  some 
strange  fish.  On  the  inland  side,  however,  the  Seigneur  had 
ordered  the  cannon  to  be  served  no  more,  for  the  broad 
embrasures  drew  the  enemies'  fire,  and  of  the  men  who  had 
been  struck  half  were  among  those  who  worked  the  guns. 

329 


The  old  nobleman  strutted  about  with  his  white  ruffles, 
and  his  clouded  cane  behind  the  line  of  parched,  smoke- 
grimed  men,  tapping  his  snuffbox,  shooting  out  his  little 
jests,  and  looking  very  much  less  concerned  than  he  had 
done  over  his  piquet. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  it,.Du  Lhut  ?"  he  asked. 

"  I  think  very  badly  of  it.  We  are  losing  men  much  too 
fast." 

"  Well,  my  friend,  what  can  you  expect  ?  When  a  thou- 
sand muskets  are  all  turned  upon  a  little  place  like  this 
some  one  must  suffer  for  it.  Ah,  my  poor  fellow,  so  you 
are  done  for  too  !" 

The  man  nearest  him  had  suddenly  fallen  with  a  crash, 
lying  quite  still,  with  his  face  in  a  platter  of  the  sagamite 
which  had  been  brought  out  by  the  women.  Du  Lhut 
glanced  at  him,  and  then  looked  round. 

"  He  is  in  line  with  no  loop-hole,  and  it  took  him  in  the 
shoulder,"  said  he.  "  Where  did  it  come  from,  then  ?  Ah, 
by  Ste.  Anne,  look  there !"  He  pointed  upward  to  a  little 
mist  of  smoke  which  hung  round  the  summit  of  a  high  oak. 

"The  rascal  overlooks  the  stockade.  But  the  trunk  is 
hardly  thick  enough  to  shield  him  at  that  height.  This 
poor  fellow  will  not  need  his  musket  again,  and  I  see  that 
it  is  ready  primed." 

De  la  Noue  laid  down  his  cane,  turned  back  his  ruffles, 
picked  up  the  dead  man's  gun,  and  fired  at  the  lurking 
warrior.  Two  leaves  fluttered  out  from  the  tree,  and  a  grin- 
ning vermilion  face  appeared  for  an  instant  with  a  yell  of 
derision.  Quick  as  a  flash  Du  Lhut  brought  his  musket  to 
his  shoulder  and  pulled  the  trigger.  The  man  gave  a  tre- 
mendous spring  and  crashed  down  through  the  thick  foliage. 
Some  seventy  or  eighty  feet  below  him  a  single  thick  branch 
shot  out,  and  on  to  this  he  fell  with  the  sound  of  a  great 
stone  dropping  into  a  bog,  and  hung  there  doubled  over  it, 
swirging  slowly  from  side  to  side  like  a  red  rag,  his  scalp- 
lock  streaming  from  between  his  feet.  A  shout  of  exulta- 
tion rose  from  the  Canadians  at  the  sight,  which  was  drowned 
in  the  murderous  yell  of  the  savages. 

"  His  limbs  twitch.     He  is  not  dead  !"  cried  de  la  Noue. 
330 


"  Let  him  die  there,"  said  the  old  pioneer;  callously,  ram- 
ming a  fresh  charge  into  his  gun.  "  Ah  !  there  is  the  gray 
hat  again.  It  comes  ever  when  I  am  unloaded." 

"  I  saw  a  plumed  hat  among  the  brushwood." 

"  It  is  the  Flemish  Bastard.  I  had  rather  have  his  scalp 
than  those  of  his  hundred  best  warriors !" 

"  Is  he  so  brave,  then  ?" 

"Yes,  he  is  brave  enough.  There  is  no  denying  it,  for 
how  else  could  he  be  an  Iroquois  war  chief?  But  he  is 
clever  and  cunning  and  cruel — ah,  my  God  !  if  all  the  sto- 
ries told  are  true  his  cruelty  is  past  believing.  I  should 
feel  that  my  tongue  would  wither  if  I  did  but  name  the 
things  which  this  man  has  done.  Ah!  he  is  there  again." 

The  gray  hat  with  the  plume  had  shown  itself  once  again 
in  a  rift  of  the  smoke.  De  la  Noue  and  Du  Lhut  both  fired 
together,  and  the  cap  fluttered  up  into  the  air.  At  the  same 
instant  the  bushes  parted,  and  a  tall  warrior  sprang  out  in 
full  view  of  the  defenders.  His  face  was  that  of  an  Indian, 
but  a  shade  or  two  lighter,  and  a  pointed  black  beard  hung 
down  over  his  hunting-tunic.  He  threw  out  his  hands  with 
a  gesture  of  disdain,  stood  for  an  instant  looking  steadfastly 
at  the  fort,  and  then  sprang  back  into  cover  amid  a  shower 
of  bullets,  which  clipped  away  the  twigs  all  around  him. 

"  Yes,  he  is  brave  enough,"  Du  Lhut  repeated,  with  an 
oath.  "  Your  censitaires  have  had  their  hoes  in  their  hands 
more  often  than  their  muskets,  I  should  judge  from  their 
shooting.  But  they  seem  to  be  drawing  closer  upon  the  east 
face,  and  I  think  that  they  will  make  a  rush  there  before 
long." 

The  fire  had  indeed  grown  very  much  fiercer  upon  the 
side  which  was  defended  by  de  Catinat,  and  it  was  plain 
that  the  main  force  of  the  Iroquois  were  gathered  at  that 
point.  From  every  log  and  trunk  and  cleft  and  bush  came 
the  red  flash  with  the  gray  halo,  and  the  bullets  sang  in  a 
continuous  stream  through  the  loop-holes.  Amos  had  whit- 
tled a  little  hole  for  himself  about  a  foot  above  the  ground, 
and  lay  upon  his  face  loading  and  firing  in  his  own  quiet, 
methodical  fashion.  Beside  him  stood  Ephraim  Savage,  his 
mouth  set  grimly,  his  eyes  flashing  from  under  his  down- 

33i 


drawn  brows,  and  his  whole  soul  absorbed  in  the  smiting  of 
the  Amalekites.  His  hat  was  gone,  his  grizzled  hair  flying 
in  the  breeze,  great  splotches  of  powder  mottled  his  mahog- 
any face,  and  a  weal  across  his  right  cheek  showed  where 
an  Indian  bullet  had  grazed  him.  De  Catinat  was  bearing 
himself  like  an  experienced  soldier,  walking  up  and  down 
among  his  men  with  short  words  of  praise  or  precept— those 
fire-words,  rough  and  blunt,  which  bring  a  glow  to  the  heart 
and  a  flush  to  the  cheek.  Seven  of  his  men  were  down,  but 
as  the  attack  grew  fiercer  upon  his  side  it  slackened  upon 
the  others,  and  the  Seigneur  with  his  son  and  Du  Lhut, 
brought  ten  men  to  reinforce  him.  De  la  Noue  was  hold- 
ing out  his  snuffbox  to  de  Catinat,  when  a  shrill  scream 
from  behind  them  made  them  both  look  round.  Onega, 
the  Indian  wife,  was  wringing  her  hands  over  the  body  of 
her  son.  A  glance  showed  that  the  bullet  had  pierced  his 
heart,  and  that  he  was  dead. 

For  an  instant  the  old  nobleman's  thin  face  grew  a  shade 
paler,  and  the  hand  which  held  out  the  little  gold  box  shook 
like  a  branch  in  the  wind.  Then  he  thrust  it  into  his  pocket 
again,  and  mastered  the  spasm  which  had  convulsed  his 
features. 

"The  de  la  Noue's  always  die  upon  the  field  of  honor," 
he  remarked.  "  I  think  that  we  should  have  some  more 
men  in  the  angle  by  the  gun." 

And  now  it  became  clear  why  it  was  that  the  Iroquois 
had  chosen  the  eastern  face  for  their  main  attack.  It  was 
that  the  clump  of  cover  lay  midway  between  the  edge  of  the 
forest  and  the  stockade.  A  storming-party  could  creep  as 
far  as  that,  and  gather  there  for  the  final  rush.  First  one 
crouching  warrior,  and  then  a  second,  and  then  a  third,  darted 
across  the  little  belt  of  open  space,  and  threw  themselves 
down  among  the  bushes.  The  fourth  was  hit,  and  lay  with 
his  back  broken  a  few  paces  out  from  the  edge  of  the  wood, 
but  a  stream  of  warriors  continued  to  venture  the  passage,  un- 
til thirty-six  had  got  across,  and  the  little  patch  of  underwood 
was  full  of  lurking  savages.  Amos  Green's  time  had  come. 

From  where  he  lay  he  could  see  the  white  patch  where  he 
had  cut  the  bark  from  the  birch  sapling,  and  he  knew  that 

332 


immediately  underneath  it  lay  the  powder-bag.  He  sighted 
the  mark,  and  then  slowly  lowered  his  barrel  until  he  had 
got  to  the  base  of  the  little  tree  as  nearly  as  he  could  guess 
it  among  the  tangle  of  bushes.  The  first  shot  produced  no 
result,  however,  and  the  second  was  aimed  a  foot  lower. 
The  bullet  penetrated  the  bag,  and  there  was  an  explosion 
which  shook  the  manor-house,  and  swayed  the  whole  line  of 
stout  stockades  as  though  they  were  corn-stalks  in  a  breeze. 
Up  to  the  highest  summits  of  the  trees  went  the  huge  col- 
umn of  blue  smoke,  and  after  the  first  roar  there  was  a 
deathly  silence,  which  was  broken  by  the  patter  and  thud  of 
falling  bodies.  Then  came  a  wild  cheer  from  the  defenders, 
and  a  furious  answering  whoop  from  the  Indians,  while  the 
fire  from  the  woods  burst  out  with  greater  fury  than  ever. 

But  the  blow  had  been  a  heavy  one.  Of  the  thirty-six 
warriors,  all  picked  for  their  valor,  only  four  regained  the 
shelter  of  the  woods,  and  those  so  torn  and  shattered  that 
they  were  spent  men.  Already  the  Indians  had  lost  heavily, 
and  this  fresh  disaster  made  them  reconsider  their  plan  of 
attack,  for  the  Iroquois  were  as  wary  as  they  were  brave, 
and  he  was  esteemed  the  best  war  chief  who  was  most  chary 
of  the  lives  of  his  followers.  Their  fire  gradually  slackened, 
and  at  last,  save  for  a  dropping  shot  here  and  there,  it  died 
away  altogether. 

"  Is  it  possible  that  they  are  going  to  abandon  the  at- 
tack?" cried  de  Catinat,  joyously.  "Amos,  I  believe  that 
you  have  saved  us." 

But  the  wily  Du  Lhut  shook  his  head.  "  A  wolf  would 
as  soon  leave  a  half-gnawed  bone  as  an  Iroquois  such  a 
prize  as  this." 

"  But  they  have  lost  heavily." 

"  Ay,  but  not  so  heavily  as  ourselves  in  proportion  to  our 
numbers.  They  have  lost  fifty  out  of  a  thousand,  and  we  twen- 
ty out  of  threescore.  No,  no ;  they  are  holding  a  council,  and 
we  shall  soon  hear  from  them  again.  But  it  may  be  some 
hours  first,  and  if  you  will  take  my  advice  you  will  have  an 
hour's  sleep,  for  you  are  not,  as  I  can  see  by  your  eyes,  as 
used  to  doing  without  it  as  I  am,  and  there  may  be  little 
rest  for  any  of  us  this  night." 

333 


De  Catinat  was  indeed  weary  to  the  last  pitch  of  human 
endurance.  Amos  Green  and  the  seaman  had  already  wrapt 
themselves  in  their  blankets  and  sunk  to  sleep  under  the 
shelter  of  the  stockade.  The  soldier  rushed  up-stairs  to  say 
a  few  words  of  comfort  to  the  trembling  Adele,  and  then, 
throwing  himself  down  upon  a  couch,  he  slept  the  dreamless 
sleep  of  an  exhausted  man.  When  at  last  he  was  aroused 
by  a  fresh  sputter  of  musketry  fire  from  the  woods  the  sun 
was  already  low  in  the  heavens,  and  the  mellow  light  of 
evening  tinged  the  bare  walls  of  the  room.  He  sprang  from 
his  couch,  seized  his  musket,  and  rushed  down-stairs.  The 
defenders  were  gathered  at  their  loop-holes  once  more,  while 
Du  Lhut,  the  Seigneur,  and  Amos  Green  were  whispering 
eagerly  together.  He  noticed  as  he  passed  that  Onega  still 
sat  crooning  by  the  body  of  her  son,  without  having  changed 
her  position  since  morning. 

"  What  is  it,  then  ?     Are  they  coming  on  ?"  he  asked. 

"  They  are  up  to  some  devilry,"  said  Du  Lhut,  peering 
out  at  the  corner  of  the  embrasure.  "  They  are  gathering 
thickly  at  the  east  fringe,  and  yet  the  firing  comes  from  the 
north.  It  is  not  the  Indian  way  to  attack  across  the  open, 
and  yet,  if  they  think  help  is  coming  from  the  fort,  they 
might  venture." 

"  The  wood  in  front  of  us  is  alive  with  them,"  said  Amos. 
"  They  are  as  busy  as  beavers  among  the  underwood." 

"  Perhaps  they  are  going  to  attack  from  this  side,  and 
cover  the  attack  by  a  fire  from  the  flank." 

"  That  is  what  I  think,"  cried  the  Seigneur.  "  Bring  the 
spare  guns  up  here,  and  all  the  men  except  five  for  each 
side." 

The  words  were  hardly  out  of  his  mouth  when  a  shrill 
yell  rose  from  the  wood,  and  in  an  instant  a  cloud  of  war- 
riors burst  out  and  charged  across  the  open,  howling,  spring- 
ing, and  waving  their  guns  or  tomahawks  in  the  air.  With 
their  painted  faces,  smeared  and  striped  with  every  vivid 
color,  their  streaming  scalp-locks,  their  waving  arms,  their 
open  mouths,  and  their  writhings  and  contortions,  no  more 
fiendish  crew  ever  burst  into  a  sleeper's  nightmare.  Some 
of  those  in  front  bore  canoes  between  them,  and  as  they 

334 


reached  the  stockade  they  planted  them  against  it,  and 
swarmed  up  them  as  if  they  had  been  scaling- ladders. 
Others  fired  through  the  embrasures  and  loop-holes,  the 
muzzles  of  their  guns  touching  those  of  the  defenders,  while 
others  again  sprang  unaided  on  to  the  tops  of  the  palisades, 
and  jumped  fearlessly  down  upon  the  inner ^jde.  The  Ca- 
nadians, however,  made  such  a  resistance  as  might  be  ex- 
pected from  men  who  knew  that  no  mercy  awaited  them. 
They  fired  while  they  had  time  to  load,  and  then  clubbing 
their  muskets  they  smashed  furiously  at  every  red  head  which 
showed  above  the  rails.  The  din  within  the  stockade  was 
infernal,  the  shouts  and  cries  of  the  French,  the  whooping 
of  the  savages,  and  the  terrified  screaming  of  the  frightened 
women  blending  into  one  dreadful  uproar,  above  which  could 
be  heard  the  high,  shrill  voice  of  the  old  Seigneur  imploring 
his  censitaires  to  stand  fast.  With  his  rapier  in  his  hand, 
his  hat  lost,  his  wig  awry,  and  his  dignity  all  thrown  to  the 
winds,  the  old  nobleman  showed  them  that  day  how  a  sol- 
dier of  Rocroy  could  carry  himself,  and  with  Du  Lhut,  Amos, 
de  Catinat,  and  Ephraim  Savage,  was  ever  in  the  fore-front 
of  the  defence.  So  desperately  did  they  fight,  the  sword 
and  musket  butt  outreaching  the  tomahawk,  that  though  at 
one  time  fifty  Iroquois  were  over  the  palisades,  they  had 
slain  or  driven  back  nearly  all  of  them,  when  a  fresh  wave 
burst  suddenly  over  the  south  face,  which  had  been  stripped 
of  its  defenders.  Du  Lhut  saw  in  an  instant  that  the  enclos- 
ure was  lost,  and  that  only  one  thing  could  save  the  house. 
"  Hold  them  for  an  instant!"  he  screamed,  and  rushing 
at  the  brass  gun,  he  struck  his  flint  and  steel,  and  fired  it 
straight  into  the  thick  of  the  savages.  Then,  as  they  re- 
coiled for  an  instant,  he  stuck  a  nail  into  the  touchhole,. 
and  drove  it  home  with  a  blow  from  the  butt  of  his  gun. 
Dashing  across  the  yard,  he  spiked  the  gun  at  the  other 
corner,  and  was  back  at  the  door  as  the  remnants  of  the 
garrison  were  hurled  towards  it  by  the  rush  of  the  assail- 
ants. The  Canadians  darted  in,  and  swung  the  ponderous 
mass  of  wood  into  position,  breaking  the  leg  of  the  fore- 
most warrior  who  had  striven  to  follow  them.  Then,  for 
an  instant,  they  had  time  for  breathing  and  for  counsel. 

335 


CHAPTER  XXXVII 
THE  CANOE  FROM  THE  NORTH 

BUT  their  case  was  a  very  evil  one.  Had  the  guns  been 
lost,  so  that  they  might  be  turned  upon  the  door,  all  further 
resistance  would  have  been  vain,  but  Du  Lhut's  presence 
of  mind  had  saved  them  from  that  danger.  The  two  guns 
upon  the  river  face,  and  the  canoes,  were  safe,  for  they  were 
commanded  by  the  windows  of  the  house.  But  their  num- 
bers were  terribly  reduced,  and  those  who  were  left  were 
weary  and  wounded  and  spent.  Nineteen  had  gained  the 
house,  but  one  had  been  shot  through  the  body,  and  lay 
groaning  in  the  hall,  while  a  second  had  his  shoulder  cleft 
by  a  tomahawk,  and  could  no  longer  raise  his  musket. 
Du  Lhut,  de  la  Noue,  and  de  Catinat  were  uninjured,  but 
Ephraim  Savage  had  a  bullet-hole  in  his  forearm,  and  Amos 
was  bleeding  from  a  cut  upon  the  face.  Of  the  others 
hardly  one  was  without  injury,  and  yet  they  had  no  time  to 
think  of  their  hurts,  for  the  danger  still  pressed,  and  they 
were  lost  unless  they  acted.  A  few  shots  from  the  barri- 
caded windows  sufficed  to  clear  the  enclosure,  for  it  was 
all  exposed  to  their  aim,  but,  on  the  other  hand,  the  Indians 
had  the  shelter  of  the  stockade  now,  and  from  the  farther 
side  of  it  they  kept  up  a  fierce  fire  upon  the  windows. 
Half  a  dozen  of  the  censitaires  returned  the  fusillade, 
while  the  leaders  consulted  as  to  what  had  best  be  done. 

"We  have  twenty-five  women  and  fourteen  children," 
said  the  Seigneur.  "  I  am  sure  that  you  will  agree  with 
me,  gentlemen,  that  our  first  duty  is  towards  them.  Some 
of  you,  like  myself,  have  lost  sons  or  brothers  this  day. 
Let  us  at  least  save  our  wives  and  sisters." 

"  No  Iroquois  canoes  have  passed  up  the  river,"  said  one 
336 


of  the  Canadians.  "  If  the  women  start  in  the  darkness 
they  can  get  away  to  the  fort." 

"  By  Ste.  Anne  of  Beaupre  !"  exclaimed  Du  Lhut,  "  I  think 
it  would  be  well  if  you  could  get  your  men  out  of  this  also, 
for  I  cannot  see  how  it  is  to  be  held  until  morning." 

A  murmur  of  assent  broke  from  the  other  Canadians,  but 
the  old  nobleman  shook  his  bewigged  head  with  decision. 

"  Tut !  tut !  What  nonsense  is  this  !"  he  cried.  "  Are 
we  to  abandon  the  manor-house  of  Sainte- Marie  to  the  first 
gang  of  savages  who  choose  to  make  an  attack  upon  it. 
No,  no,  gentlemen ;  there  are  still  nearly  a  score  of  us,  and 
when  the  garrison  learn  that  we  are  so  pressed,  which  will 
be  by  to-morrow  morning  at  the  latest,  they  will  certainly 
send  us  relief." 

Du  Lhut  shook  his  head  moodily. 

"  If  you  stand  by  the  fort  I  will  not  desert  you,"  said  he, 
"  and  yet  it  is  a  pity  to  sacrifice  brave  men  for  nothing." 

"The  canoes  will  hardly  hold  the  women  and  children 
as  it  is,"  cried  Theuriet.  "  There  are  but  two  large  and 
four  small.  There  is  not  space  for  a  single  man." 

"Then  that  decides  it,"  said  de  Catinat.  "  But  who  are 
to  row  the  women  ?" 

"  It  is  but  a  few  leagues  with  the  current  in  their  favor, 
and  there  are  none  of  our  women  who  do  not  know  how  to 
handle  a  paddle." 

The  Iroquois  were  very  quiet  now,  and  an  occasional 
dropping  shot  from  the  trees  or  the  stockade  was  the  only 
sign  of  their  presence.  Their  losses  had  been  heavy,  and 
they  were  either  engaged  in  collecting  their  dead,  or  in 
holding  a  council  as  to  their  next  move.  The  twilight  was 
gathering  in,  and  the  sun  had  already  sunk  beneath  the 
tree  tops.  Leaving  a  watchman  at  each  window,  the  lead- 
ers went  round  to  the  back  of  the  house  where  the  canoes 
were  lying  upon  the  bank.  There  were  no  signs  of  the 
enemy  upon  the  river  to  the  north  of  them. 

"We  are  in  luck,"  said  Amos ;  "the  clouds  are  gathering 
and  there  will  be  little  light." 

"  It  is  luck  indeed,  since  the  moon  is  only  three  days 
past  the  full,"  answered  Du  Lhut.  "  I  wonder  that  the 

2  A  337 


Iroquois  have  not  cut  us  off  upon  the  water,  but  it  is  likely 
that  their  canoes  have  gone  south  to  bring  up  another  war- 
party.  They  may  be  back  soon,  and  we  had  best  not  lose 
a  moment." 

"  In  an  hour  it  might  be  dark  enough  to  start." 

"  I  think  that  there  is  rain  in  those  clouds,  and  that  will 
make  it  darker  still." 

The  women  and  children  were  assembled,  and  their 
places  in  each  boat  were  assigned  to  them.  The  wives  of 
the  censitaires,  rough  hardy  women  whose  lives  had  been 
spent  under  the  shadow  of  a  constant  danger,  were  for  the 
most  part  quiet  and  collected,  though  a  few  of  the  younger 
ones  whimpered  a  little.  A  woman  is  always  braver  when 
she  has  a  child  to  draw  her  thoughts  from  herself,  and  each 
married  woman  had  one  now  allotted  to  her  as  her  own 
special  charge  until  they  should  reach  the  fort.  To  Onega, 
the  Indian  wife  of  the  Seigneur,  who  was  as  wary  and  as 
experienced  as  a  war  sachem  of  her  people,  the  command 
of  the  women  was  intrusted. 

"  It  is  not  very  far,  Adele,"  said  de  Catinat,  as  his  wife 
clung  to  his  arm.  "  You  remember  how  we  heard  the  An- 
gel us  as  we  journeyed  through  the  woods.  That  was  Fort 
St.  Louis,  and  it  is  but  a  league  or  two." 

"  But  I  do  not  wish  to  leave  you,  Amory.  We  have  been 
together  in  all  our  troubles.  Oh,  Amory,  why  should  we  be 
divided  now  ?" 

"  My  dear  love,  you  will  tell  them  at  the  fort  how  things 
are  with  us,  and  they  will  bring  us  help." 

"Let  the  others  do  that,  and  I  will  stay.  I  will  not  be 
useless,  Amory.  Onega  has  taught  me  to  load  a  gun.  I 
will  not  be  afraid,  indeed  I  will  not,  if  you  will  only  let  me 
stay."  - 

"  You  must  not  ask  it,  Adele.  It  is  impossible,  child.  I 
could  not  let  you  stay." 

"  But  I  feel  so  sure  that  it  would  be  best." 

The  coarser  reason  of  man  has  not  yet  learned  to  value 
those  subtle  instincts  which  guide  a  woman.  De  Catinat 
argued  and  exhorted  until  he  had  silenced  if  he  had  not 
convinced  her. 

338 


"  It  is  for  my  sake,  dear.  You  do  not  know  what  a  load 
it  will  be  from  my  heart  when  I  know  that  you  are  safe. 
And  you  need  not  be  afraid  for  me.  We  can  easily  hold 
the  place  until  morning.  Then  the  people  from  the  fort 
will  come,  for  I  hear  that  they  have  plenty  of  canoes,  and 
we  shall  all  meet  again." 

Adele  was  silent,  but  her  hands  tightened  upon  his1  arm. 
Her  husband  was  still  endeavoring  to  reassure  her,  when  a 
groan  burst  from  the  watcher  in  the  window  which  over- 
looked the  stream. 

"  There  is  a  canoe  on  the  river  to  the  north  of  us !"  he 
cried. 

The  besieged  looked  at  each  other  in  dismay.  The  Iro- 
quois  had  then  cut  off  their  retreat  after  all. 

"  How  many  warriors  are  in  it  ?"  asked  the  Seigneur. 

"  I  cannot  see.  The  light  is  not  very  good,  and  it  is  in 
the  shadow  of  the  bank." 

"  Which  way  is  it  coming  ?" 

"  It  is  coming  this  way.  Ah,  it  shoots  out  into  the  open 
now,  and  I  can  see  it.  May  the  good  Lord  be  praised  !  A 
dozen  candles  shall  burn  in  Quebec  cathedral  if  I  live  till 
next  summer  !" 

"  What  is  it,  then  ?"  cried  de  la  Noue,  impatiently. 

"  It  is  not  an  Iroquois  canoe.  There  is  but  one  man  in 
it.  He  is  a  Canadian." 

"  A  Canadian  !"  cried  Du  Lhut,  springing  up  to  the  win- 
dow. "Who  but  a  madman  would  venture  into  such  a 
hornets'  nest  alone  ?  Ah,  yes.  I  can  see  him  now.  He 
keeps  well  out  from  the  bank  to  avoid  their  fire.  Now  he 
is  in  mid-stream,  and  he  turns  towards  us.  By  my  faith,  it 
is  not  the  first  time  that  the  good  father  has  handled  a 
paddle." 

"  It  is  a  Jesuit,"  said  one,  craning  his  neck.  "  They  are 
ever  where  there  is  most  danger." 

"  No  ;  I  can  see  his  capote,"  said  another.  "  It  is  a  Fran- 
ciscan friar." 

An  instant  later  there  was  the  sound  of  a  canoe  ground- 
ing upon  the  pebbles,  the  door  was  unbarred,  and  a  man 
strode  in,  attired  in  the  long  dark  gown  of  the  Franciscans. 

339 


He  cast  a  rapid  glance  around,  and  then  stepping  up  to  de 
Catinat,  laid  his  hand  upon  his  shoulder. 

"  So  !  You  have  not  escaped  me,"  said  he.  "  We  have 
caught  the  evil  seed  before  it  had  time  to  root." 

"  What  do  you  mean,  father  ?"  asked  the  Seigneur. 
"You  have  made  some  mistake.  This  is  my  good  friend 
Amory  de  Catinat,  of  a  noblo  French  family." 

"This  is  Amory  de  Catinat,  the  heretic  and  Huguenot !" 
cried  the  monk.  "  I  have  followed  him  up  the  St.  Lawrence, 
and  I  have  followed  him  up  the  Richelieu,  and  I  would 
have  followed  him  to  the  world's  end  if  I  could  but  bring 
him  back  with  me." 

"  Tut,  father !  your  zeal  carries  you  too  far/'  said  the 
Seigneur.  "  Whither  would  you  take  my  friend,  then  ?" 

"  He  shall  go  back  to  France  with  his  wife.  There  is  no 
place  in  Canada  for  heretics." 

Du  Lhut  burst  out  laughing.  "  By  Ste.  Anne,  father," 
said  he,  "if  you  could  take  us  all  back  to  France  at  present 
we  should  be  very  much  your  debtors." 

"And  you  will  remember,"  said  de  la  Noue,  sternly,  "that 
you  are  under  my  roof,  and  that  you  are  speaking  of  my 
guest." 

But  the  friar  was  not  to  be  abashed  by  the  frown  of  the 
old  soldier. 

"Look  at  this,"  said  he,  whipping  a  paper  out  of  his 
bosom ;  "  it  is  signed  by  the  Governor,  and  calls  upon  you, 
under  pain  of  the  King's  displeasure,  to  return  this  man  to 
Quebec.  Ah,  monsieur,  when  you  left  me  upon  the  island 
that  morning  you  little  thought  that  I  would  return  to  Que- 
bec for  this,  and  then  hunt  you  down  so  many  hundreds 
of  miles  of  river.  But  I  have  you  now,  and  I  shall  never 
leave  you  until  I  see  you  on  board  of  the  ship  which  will 
carry  you  and  your  wife  back  to  France." 

For  all  the  bitter  vindictiveness  which  gleamed  in  the 
friar's  eyes,  de  Catinat  could  not  but  admire  the  energy  and 
tenacity  of  the  man. 

"  It  seems  to  me,  father,  that  you  would  have  shown  more 
as  a  soldier  than  as  a  follower  of  Christ,"  said  he ;  "  but, 
since  you  have  followed  us  here,  and  since  there  is  no 


getting  away,  we  may  settle  this  question  at  some  later 
time." 

But  the  two  Americans  were  less  inclined  to  take  so 
peaceful  a  view.  Ephraim  Savage's  beard  bristled  with 
anger,  and  he  whispered  something  into  Amos  Green's  ear. 

"  The  captain  and  I  could  easily  get  rid  of  him,"  said  the 
young  woodsman,  drawing  de  Catinat  aside.  "  If  he  will 
cross  our  path  he  must  pay  for  it." 

"  No,  no,  not  for  the  world,  Amos  !  Let  him  alone.  He 
does  what  he  thinks  to  be  his  duty,  though  his  faith  is 
stronger  than  his  charity,  I  think.  But  here  comes  the  rain, 
and  surely  it  is  dark  enough  now  for  the  boats." 

A  great  brown  cloud  had  overspread  the  heavens,  and 
the  night  had  fallen  so  rapidly  that  they  could  hardly  see 
the  gleam  of  the  river  in  front  of  them.  The  savages  in  the 
woods  and  behind  the  captured  stockade  were  quiet,  save 
for  an  occasional  shot,  but  the  yells  and  whoops  from  the 
cottages  of  the  censitaires  showed  that  they  were  being 
plundered  by  their  captors.  Suddenly  a  dull  red  glow  began 
to  show  above  one  of  the  roofs. 

"  They  have  set  it  on  fire  !"  cried  Du  Lhut.  "  The  canoes 
must  go  at  once,  for  the  river  will  soon  be  as  light  as  day. 
In  !  in  !  There  is  not  an  instant  to  be  lost !" 

There  was  no  time  for  leave-taking.  One  impassioned 
kiss,  and  Adele  was  torn  away  and  thrust  into  the  smallest 
canoe,  which  she  shared  with  Onega,  two  children,  and  an 
unmarried  girl.  The  others  rushed  into  their  places,  and  in 
a  few  moments  they  had  pushed  off  and  had  vanished  into 
the  drift  and  the  darkness.  The  great  cloud  had  broken, 
and  the  rain  pattered  heavily  on  the  roof  and  splashed  upon 
their  faces  as  they  strained  their  eyes  after  the  vanishing 
boats. 

"Thank  God  for  this  storm  !"  murmured  Du  Lhut.  "It 
will  prevent  the  cottages  from  blazing  up  too  quickly." 

But  he  had  forgotten  that  though  the  roofs  might  be  wet, 
the  interior  was  as  dry  as  tinder.  He  had  hardly  spoken 
before  a  great  yellow  tongue  of  flame  licked  out  of  one  of 
the  windows,  and  again  and  again,  until  suddenly  half  of 
the  roof  fell  in,  and  the  cottage  was  blazing  like  a  pitch- 


bucket.  The  flames  hissed  and  sputtered  in  the  pouring 
rain ;  but,  fed  from  below,  they  grew  still  higher  and  fiercer, 
flashing  redly  upon  the  great  trees,  and  turning  their  trunks 
to  burnished  brass.  Their  light  made  the  enclosure  and  the 
manor-house  as  clear  as  day,  and  exposed  the  whole  long 
stretch  of  the  river.  A  fearful  yell  from  the  woods  an- 
nounced that  the  savages  had  seen  the  canoes,  which  were 
plainly  visible  from  the  windows  not  more  than  a  quarter  of 
a  mile  away. 

"  They  are  rushing  through  the  woods  !  They  are  mak- 
ing for  the  water's  edge  !"  cried  de  Catinat. 

"  They  have  some  canoes  down  there,"  said  Du  Lhut. 

"  But  they  must  pass  us  !"  cried  the  Seigneur  of  Sainte- 
Marie.  "Get  down  to  the  cannon  and  see  if  you  cannot 
stop  them." 

They  had  hardly  reached  the  guns  when  two  large  canoes 
filled  with  warriors  shot  out  from  among  the  reeds  below 
the  fort,  and  steering  out  into  mid-stream,  began  to  paddle 
furiously  after  the  fugitives. 

"Jean,  you  are  our  best  shot!"  cried  de  la  Noue.  "Lay 
for  her  as  she  passes  the  great  pine-tree.  Lambert,  do  you 
take  the  other  gun.  The  lives  of  all  whom  you  love  may 
hang  upon  the  shot !" 

The  two  wrinkled  old  artillerymen  glanced  along  their 
guns  and  waited  for  the  canoes  to  come  abreast  of  them. 
The  fire  blazed  higher  and  higher,  and  the  broad  river 
lay  like  a  sheet  of  dull  metal  with  the  two  dark  lines  which 
marked  the  canoes  sweeping  swiftly  down  the  centre.  One 
was  fifty  yards  in  front  of  the  other;  but  in  each  the  Indians 
were  bending  to  their  paddles  and  pulling  frantically,  while 
their,  comrades  from  the  wooded  shores  whooped  them  on 
to  fresh  exertions.  The  fugitives  had  already  disappeared 
around  the  bend  of  the  river. 

As  the  first  canoe  came  abreast  of  the  lower  of  the  two 
guns,  the  Canadian  made  the  sign  of  the  cross  over  the 
touchhole  and  fired.  A  cheer  and  then  a  groan  went  up 
from  the  eager  watchers.  The  charge  had  struck  the  sur- 
face close  to  the  mark,  and  dashed  such  a  shower  of  water 
over  it  that  for  an  instant  it  looked  as  if  it  had  been  sunk. 

342 


The  next  moment,  however,  the  splash  subsided,  and  the 
canoe  shot  away  uninjured,  save  that  one  of  the  rowers  had 
dropped  his  paddle,  while  his  head  fell  forward  upon  the 
back  of  the  man  in  front  of  him.  The  second  gunner 
sighted  the  same  canoe  as  it  came  abreast  of  him,  but  at  the 
very  instant  when  he  stretched  out  his  match  to  fire,  a  bul- 
let came  humming  from  the  stockade,  and  he  fell  forward 
dead  without  a  groan. 

"  This  is  work  that  I  know  something  of,  lad,"  said  old 
Ephraim,  springing  suddenly  forward.  "  But  when  I  fire  a 
gun  I  like  to  train  it  myself.  Give  me  a  help  with  the  hand- 
spike, and  get  her  straight  for  the  island.  So  !  A  little 
lower  for  an  even  keel !  Now  we  have  them  !"  He  clapped 
down  his  match  and  fired. 

It  was  a  beautiful  shot.  The  whole  charge  took  the  ca- 
noe about  six  feet  behind  the  bow,  and  doubled  her  up  like 
an  egg-shell.  Before  the  smoke  had  cleared  she  had  found- 
ered, and  the  second  canoe  had  paused  to  pick  up  some  of 
the  wounded  men.  The  others,  as  much  at  home  in  the 
water  as  in  the  woods,  were  already  striking  out  for  the 
shore. 

"  Quick !  Quick  !"  cried  the  Seigneur.  "  Load  the  gun  ! 
We  may  get  the  second  one  yet !" 

But  it  was  not  to  be.  Long  before  they  could  get  it 
ready  the  Iroquois  had  picked  up  their  wounded  warriors, 
and  were  pulling  madly  down  stream.  As  they  shot  away, 
the  fire  died  suddenly  down  in  the  burning  cottages,  and  the 
rain  and  the  darkness  closed  in  upon  them  once  more. 

"  My  God  !"  cried  de  Catinat,  furiously.  "  They  will  be 
taken  !  Let  us  abandon  this  place,  take  a  boat,  and  follow 
them  !  Come  !  Come  !  Not  an  instant  is  to  be  lost." 

"  Monsieur,  you  go  too  far  in  your  very  natural  anxiety," 
said  the  Seigneur,  coldly.  "  I  am  not  inclined  to  leave  my 
post  so  easily." 

"Ah,  what  is  it?  Only  wood  and  stone,  which  can  be 
built  again.  But  to  think  of  the  women  in  the  hands  of 
these  devils.  Oh,  I  am  going  mad  !  Come  !  Come  !  For 
Christ's  sake  come !"  His  face  was  deadly  pale,  and  he 
raved  with  his  clinched  hands  in  the  air. 

343 


"  I  do  not  think  that  they  will  be  caught,"  said  Du  Lhut, 
laying  his  hand  soothingly  upon  his  shoulder.  "Do  not 
fear.  They  had  a  long  start,  and  the  women  here  can  pad- 
dle as  well  as  the  men.  Again,  the  Iroquois  canoe  was 
overloaded  at  the  start,  and  has  the  wounded  men  aboard 
as  well  now.  Besides,  these  canoes  of  the  Mohawks  are 
not  as  swift  as  the  Algonquin  birch-barks  which  we  use.  In 
any  case  it  is  impossible  to  follow,  for  we  have  no  boat." 

"  There  is  one  lying  there." 

"  Ah,  it  will  but  hold  a  single  man.  It  is  that  in  which 
the  friar  came/' 

"  Then  I  am  going  in  that !     My  place  is  with  Adele  !" 

He  flung  open  the  door,  rushed  out,  and  was  about  to 
push  off  the  frail  skiff,  when  some  one  sprang  past  him,  and 
with  a  blow  from  a  hatchet  stove  in  the  side  of  the  boat. 

"  It  is  my  boat,"  said  the  friar,  throwing  down  his  axe 
and  folding  his  arms.  "  I  can  do  what  I  like  with  it." 

"You  fiend  !     You  have  ruined  us  !" 

"  I  have  found  you,  and  you  shall  not  escape  me  again." 

The  hot  blood  flushed  to  the  soldier's  head,  and  picking 
up  the  axe,  he  took  a  quick  step  forward.  The  light  from 
the  open  door  shone  upon  the  grave,  harsh  face  of  the  friar, 
but  not  a  muscle  twitched  nor  a  feature  changed  as  he  saw 
the  axe  whirl  up  in  the  hands  of  a  furious  man.  He  only 
signed  himself  with  the  cross,  and  mattered  a  Latin  prayer 
under  his  breath.  It  was  that  composure  which  saved  his 
life.  De  Catinat  hurled  down  the  axe  again  with  a  bitter 
curse,  and  was  turning  away  from  the  shattered  boat,  when 
in  an  instant,  without  a  warning,  the  great  door  of  the 
manor-house  crashed  inward,  and  a  flood  of  whooping 
savages  burst  into  the  house. 


CHAPTER    XXXVIII 
THE    DINING-HALL   OF    SAINTE-MARIE 

WHAT  had  occurred  is  easily  explained.  The  watchers 
in  the  windows  at  the  front  found  that  it  was  more  than 
flesh  and  blood  could  endure  to  remain  waiting  at  their 
posts  while  the  fates  of  their  wives  and  children  were  being 
decided  at  the  back.  All  was  quiet  at  the  stockade,  and 
the  Indians  appeared  to  be  as  absorbed  as  the  Canadians 
in  what  was  passing  upon  the  river.  One  by  one,  therefore, 
the  men  on  guard  had  crept  away  and  had  assembled  at 
the  back  to  cheer  the  seaman's  shot,  and  to  groan  as  the 
remaining  canoe  sped  like  a  blood-hound  down  the  river  in 
the  wake  of  the  fugitives.  But  the  savages  had  one  at  their 
head  who  was  as  full  of  wiles  and  resource  as  Du  Lhut 
himself.  The  Flemish  Bastard  had  watched  the  house 
from  behind  the  stockade  as  a  dog  watches  a  rat-hole,  and 
he  had  instantly  discovered  that  the  defenders  had  left 
their  post.  With  a  score  of  other  warriors  he  raised  a 
great  log  from  the  edge  of  the  forest,  and  crossing  the  open 
space  unchallenged,  he  and  his  men  rushed  it  against  the 
door  with  such  violence  as  to  crack  the  bar  across  and  tear 
the  wood  from  the  hinges.  The  first  intimation  which  the 
survivors  had  of  the  attack  was  the  crash  of  the  door,  and 
the  screams  of  two  of  the  negligent  watchmen  who  had 
been  seized  and  scalped  in  the  hall.  The  whole  basement 
floor  was  in  the  hands  of  the  Indians,  and  de  Catinat  and 
his  enemy  the  friar  were  cut  off  from  the  foot  of  the  stairs. 

Fortunately,  however,  the  manor-houses  of  Canada  were 
built  with  the  one  idea  of  defence  against  Indians,  and 
even  now  there  were  hopes  for  the  defenders.  A  wooden 
ladder  which  could  be  drawn  up  in  case  of  need  hung  down 

345 


from  the  upper  windows  to  the  ground  upon  the  river  side. 
De  Catinat  rushed  round  to  this,  followed  by  the  friar.  He 
felt  for  the  ladder  in  the  darkness.  It  was  gone. 

Then,  indeed,  his  heart  sank  in  despair.  Where  could  he 
fly  to  ?  The  boat  was  destroyed.  The  stockades  lay  be- 
tween him  and  the  forest,  and  they  were  in  the  hands  of 
the  Iroquois.  Their  yells  were  ringing  in  his  ears.  They 
had  not  seen  him  yet,  but  in  a  few  minutes  they  must  come 
upon  him.  Suddenly  he  heard  a  voice  from  somewhere  in 
the  darkness  above  him. 

"  Give  me  your'  gun,  lad,"  it  said ;  "  I  see  the  loom  of 
some  of  the  heathen  down  by  the  wall." 

"  It  is  I !  It  is  I,  Amos  !"  cried  de  Catinat.  "  Down  with 
the  ladder,  or  I  am  a  dead  man." 

"  Have  a  care.  It  may  be  a  ruse,"  said  the  voice  of  Du 
Lhut. 

"  No,  no;  I'll  answer  for  it,"  cried  Amos,  and  an  instant 
later  down  came  the  ladder.  De  Catinat  and  the  friar  rushed 
up  it,  and  they  hardly  had  their  feet  upon  the  fungs  when 
a  swarm  of  warriors  burst  out  from  the  door  and  poured 
along  the  river-bank.  Two  muskets  flashed  from  above, 
something  flopped  like  a  salmon  in  the  water,  and  the  next 
instant  the  two  were  among  their  comrades,  and  the  ladder 
had  been  drawn  up  once  more. 

But  it  was  a  very  small  band  who  now  held  the  last  point 
to  which  they  could  retreat.  Only  nine  of  them  remained — 
the  Seigneur,  Du  Lhut,  the  two  Americans,  the  friar,  de 
Catinat,  Theuriet  the  major-domo,  and  two  of  the  censitaires. 
Wounded,  parched,  and  powder-blackened,  they  were  still 
filled  with  the  mad  courage  of  desperate  men,  who  knew 
that  death  could  come  in  no  more  terrible  form  than  through 
surrender.  The  stone  staircase  ran  straight  up  from  the 
kitchen  to  the  main  hall,  and  the  door  which  had  been  bar- 
ricaded across  the  lower  part  by  two  mattresses  command- 
ed the  whole  flight.  Hoarse  whisperings  and  the  click  of 
the  cocking  of  guns  from  below  told  that  the  Iroquois  were 
mustering  for  a  rush. 

"  Put  the  lantern  by  the  door,"  said  Du  Lhut,  "  so  that  it 
may  throw  the  light  upon  the  stair.  There  is  only  room 

346 


for  three  to  fire,  but  you  can  all  load  and  pass  the  guns. 
Monsieur  Green,  will  you  kneel  with  me,  and  you,  Jean  Du- 
val.     If  one  of  us  is  hit,  let  another  take  his  place  at  once. 
be  ready,  for  they  are  coming!" 

As  he  spoke  there  was  a  shrill  whistle  from  below,  and 
in  an  instant  the  stair  was  filled  with  rushing  red  figures 
and  waving  weapons.  Bang!  bang  !  bang!  went  the  three 
guns,  and  then  again,  and  again,  bang  !  bang  !  bang  !  The 
smoke  was  so  thick  in  the  low-roofed  room  that  they  could 
hardly  see  to  pass  the  muskets  to  the  eager  hands  which 
grasped  for  them.  But  no  Iroquois  had  reached  the  barri- 
cade, and  there  was  no  patter  of  their  feet  now  upon  the 
stair.  Nothing  but  an  angry  snarling,  and  an  occasional 
from  below.  The  marksmen  were  uninjured,  but  they 
ceased  to  fire,  and  waited  for  the  smoke  to  clear. 

And  when  it  cleared  they  saw  how  deadly  their  aim  had 
been  at  those  close  quarters.  Only  nine  shots  had  been 
fired,  and  seven  Indians  were  littered  up  and  down  on  the 
straight  stone  stair.  Five  of  them  lay  motionless,  but  two 
tried  to  crawl  slowly  back  to  their  friends.  Du  Lhut  and 
the  censitaire  raised  their  muskets,  and  the  two  crippled 
men  lay  still. 

Ste,  Anne!"  said  the  old  pioneer,  as  he  rammed 
home  another  bullet,  "if  they  have  our  scalps,  we  have  sold 
them  at  a  great  price.  A  hundred  squaws  will  be  howling 
in  their  villages  when  they  hear  of  this  day's  work." 

••  Ay.  they  will  not  forget  their  welcome  at  Sainte-Ma- 
>aid  the  old  nobleman,  "  I  must  again  express  my 
deep  regret,  my  dear  de  Catinat,  that  you  and  your  wife 
should  have  been  put  to  such  inconvenience  when  you  have 
been  good  enough  to  visit  me.  I  trust  that  she  and  the 
others  are  safe  at  the  fort  by  th:s  tine." 

"  May  God  grant  that  they  are !  Oh,  I  shall  never  have 
an  easy  moment  until  I  see  her  once  more." 

"  If  they  are  safe  we  may  expect  help  in  the  morning,  if 
we  can  hold  out  so  long.  Chambly.  the  commandant,  is  not 
a  man  to  leave  a  comrade  at  a  pinch." 

The  cards  were  still  laid  out  at  one  end  of  the  table,  with 
the  tricks  overlapping  each  other,  as  they  had  left  them  on 

347 


the  previous  morning.  But  there  was  something  else  there 
of  more  interest  to  them,  for  the  breakfast  had  not  been 
cleared  away,  and  they  had  been  fighting  all  day  with  hard- 
ly bite  or  sup.  Even  when  face  to  face  with  death,  Nature 
still  cried  out  for  her  dues,  and  the  hungry  men  turned  sav- 
agely upon  the  loaf,  the  ham,  and  the  cold  wild-duck.  A 
little  cluster  of  wine -bottles  stood  upon  the  buffet,  and 
these  had  their  necks  knocked  off,  and  were  emptied  down 
parched  throats.  Three  men  still  took  their  turn,  however, 
to  hold  the  barricade,  for  they  were  not  to  be  caught  nap- 
ping again.  The  yells  and  screeches  of  the  savages  came 
up  to  them  as  though  all  the  wolves  of  the  forest  were 
cooped  in  the  basement,  but  the  stair  was  deserted,  save  for 
the  seven  motionless  figures. 

"  They  will  not  try  to  rush  us  again,"  said  Du  Lhut,  with 
confidence.  "  We  have  taught  them  too  severe  a  lesson." 

"  They  will  set  fire  to  the  house." 

"  It  will  puzzle  them  to  do  that,"  said  the  major-domo. 
"  It  is  solid  stone,  walls  and  stair,  save  only  for  a  few  beams 
of  wood,  very  different  from  those  other  cottages." 

"  Hush  !"  cried  Amos  Green,  and  raised  his  hand.  The 
yells  had  died  away,  and  they  heard  the  heavy  thud  of  a 
mallet  beating  upon  wood. 

"  What  can  it  be  ?" 

"  Some  fresh  devilry  no  doubt." 

"  I  regret  to  say,  messieurs,"  observed  the  Seigneur,  with 
no  abatement  of  his  courtly  manner,  "  that  it  is  my  belief 
that  they  have  learned  a  lesson  from  our  young  friend  here, 
and  that  they  are  knocking  out  the  heads  of  the  powder- 
barrels  in  the  storeroom." 

But  Du  Lhut  shook  his  head  at  the  suggestion.  "  It  is 
not  in  a  redskin  to  waste  powder,"  said  he.  "  It  is  a  deal 
too  precious  for  them  to  do  that.  Ah,  listen  to  that !" 

The  yellings  and  screechings  had  begun  again,  but  there 
was  a  wilder,  madder  ring  in  their  shrillness,  and  they  were 
mingled  with  snatches  of  song  and  bursts  of  laughter. 

"Ha !  It  is  the  brandy  casks  which  they  have  opened," 
cried  Du  Lhut.  "  They  were  bad  before,  but  they  will  be 
fiends  out  of  hell  now." 

348 


As  he  spoke,  there  came  another  burst  of  whoops,  and 
high  above  them  a  voice  calling  for  mercy.  With  horror  in 
their  eyes  the  survivors  glanced  from  one  to  the  other.  A 
heavy  smell  of  burning  rose  from  below,  and  still  that  dread- 
ful voice  shrieking  and  pleading.  Then  slowly  it  quavered 
away,  and  was  silent  forever. 

"  Who  was  it  ?"  whispered  de  Catinat,  his  blood  running 
cold  in  his  veins. 

"  It  was  Jean  Corbeil,  I  think." 

"  May  God  rest  his  soul !  His  troubles  are  over.  Would 
that  we  were  as  peaceful  as  he  !  Ah,  shoot  him  !  Shoot !" 

A  man  had  suddenly  sprung  out  at  the  foot  of  the  stair, 
and  had  swung  his  arm  as  though  throwing  something.  It 
was  the  Flemish  Bastard.  Amos  Green's  musket  flashed, 
but  the  savage  had  sprung  back  again  as  rapidly  as  he  ap- 
peared. Something  splashed  down  among  them,  and  rolled 
across  the  floor  in  the  lamplight. 

"  Down  !     Down  !     It  is  a  bomb  !"  cried  de  Catinat. 

But  it  lay  at  Du  Lhut's  feet,  and  he  had  seen  it  clearly. 
He  took  a  cloth  from  the  table,  and  dropped  it  over  it. 

"  It  is  not  a  bomb,"  said  he,  quietly ;  "  and  it  was  Jean 
Corbeil  who  died." 

For  four  hours  sounds  of  riot,  of  dancing,  and  of  revelling 
rose  up  from  the  storehouse,  and  the  smell  of  the  open 
brandy-casks  filled  the  whole  air.  More  than  once  the  sav- 
ages quarrelled  and  fought  among  themselves,  and  it  seemed 
as  if  they  had  forgotten  their  enemies  above;  but  the  be- 
sieged soon  found  that  if  they  attempted  to  presume  upon 
this,  they  were  as  closely  watched  as  ever.  The  major- 
domo,  Theuriet,  passing  between  a  loop-hole  and  a  light, 
was  killed  instantly  by  a  bullet  from  the  stockade,  and  both 
Amos  and  the  old  Seigneur  had  narrow  escapes,  until  they 
blocked  all  the  windows  save  that  which  overlooked  the 
river.  There  was  no  danger  from  this  one,  and  as  day  was 
already  breaking  once  more,  one  or  other  of  the  party  was 
forever  straining  his  eyes  down  the  stream  in  search  of 
the  expected  succor. 

Slowly  the  light  crept  up  the  eastern  sky,  a  little  line  of 
pearl,  then  a  band  of  pink,  broadening,  stretching,  spread- 
2B  349 


ing,  until  it  shot  its  warm  color  across  the  heavens,  tinging 
the  edges  of  the  drifting  clouds.  Over  the  woodlands  lay 
a  thin  gray  vapor,  the  tops  of  the  high  pines  jutting  out  like 
dim  islands  from  the  sea  of  haze.  Gradually,  as  the  light 
increased,  the  mist  shredded  off  into  little  ragged  wisps 
which  thinned  and  drifted  away,  until  at  last,  as  the  sun 
pushed  its  glowing  edge  over  the  eastern  forests,  it  gleamed 
upon  the  reds  and  oranges  and  purples  of  the  fading  leaves, 
and  upon  the  broad  blue  river  which  curled  away  to  the 
northward.  De  Catihat,  as  he  stood  at  the  window  looking 
out,  was  breathing  in  the  healthy  resinous  scent  of  the  trees, 
mingled  with  the  damp,  heavy  odor  of  the  wet  earth,  when 
suddenly  his  eyes  fell  on  a  dark  spot  upon  the  river  to  the 
north  of  them. 

"  There  is  a  canoe  coming  up  !"  he  cried. 

In  an  instant  they  had  all  rushed  to  the  opening,  but 
Du  Lhut  sprang  after  them,  and  pulled  them  angrily  towards 
the  door.  "  Do  you  wish  to  die  before  your  time  ?"  he 
cried. 

"  Ay,  ay !"  said  Captain  Ephraim,  who  understood  the 
gesture  if  not  the  words.  "  We  must  leave  a  watch  on  deck. 
Amos,  lad,  lie  here  with  me,  and  be  ready  if  they  show." 

The  two  Americans  and  the  old  pioneer  held  the  barri- 
cade, while  the  eyes  of  all  the  others  were  turned  upon  the 
approaching  boat.  A  groan  broke  suddenly  from  the  only 
surviving  censitaire. 

"It  is  an  Iroquois  canoe !"  he  cried. 

"  Impossible !" 

"Alas,  your  excellency,  it  is  so,  and  it  is  the  same  one 
which  passed  us  last  night." 

"  Ah,  then  the  women  have  escaped  them." 

"  I  trust  so.  But,  alas !  Seigneur,  I  fear  that  there  are 
more  in  the  canoe  now  than  when  they  passed  us." 

The  little  group  of  survivors  waited  in  breathless  anxiety 
while  the  canoe  sped  swiftly  up  the  river,  with  a  line  of  foam 
on  either  side  of  her,  and  a  long  forked  swirl  in  the  waters 
behind.  They  could  see  that  she  appeared  to  be  very 
crowded,  but  they  remembered  that  the  wounded  of  the 
other  boat  were  aboard  of  her.  On  she  came  and  on,  until, 

350 


as  she  came  abreast  of  the  fort,  she  swung.round,  and  the 
rowers  raised  their  paddles  and  burst  into  a  shrill  yell  of  de- 
rision. The  stern  of  the  canoe  was  turned  towards  them 
now,  and  they  saw  that  two  women  were  seated  in  it. 
Even  at  that  distance  there  was  no  mistaking  the  sweet 
pale  face  or  the  dark  queenly  one  beside  it.  The  one  was 
Onega  arid  the  other  Adele. 


CHAPTER   XXXIX 
THE   TWO   SWIMMERS 

CHARLES  DE  LA  NOUE,  Seigneur  de  Sainte-Marie,  was  a 
hard  and  self-contained  man,  but  a  groan  and  a  bitter  curse 
burst  from  him  when  he  saw  his  Indian  wife  in  the  hands 
of  her  kinsmen,  from  whom  she  could  hope  for  little  mercy. 
Yet  even  now  his  old-fashioned  courtesy  to  his  guest  had 
made  him  turn  to  de  Catinat  with  some  words  of  sympathy, 
when  there  was  a  clatter  of  wood,  something  darkened  the 
light  of  the  window,  and  the  young  soldier  was  gone.  With- 
out a  word,  he  had  lowered  the  ladder,  and  was  clambering 
down  it  with  frantic  haste.  Then,  as  his  feet  touched  the 
ground,  he  signalled  to  his  comrades  to  draw  it  up  again, 
and  clashing  into  the  river,  he  swam  towards  the  canoe. 
Without  arms,  and  without  a  plan,  he  had  but  the  one 
thought,  that  his  place  was  by  the  side  of  his  wife  in  this 
the  hour  of  her  danger.  Fate  should  bring  him  what  it 
brought  her,  and  he  swore  to  himself  as  he  clove  a  way 
with  his  strong  arms  that  whether  it  were  life  or  death  they 
should  still  share  it  together. 

But  there  was  another  whose  view  of  duty  led  him  from 
safety  into  the  face  of  danger.  All  night  the  Franciscan 
had  watched  de  Catinat  as  a  miser  watches  his  treasure, 
filled  with  the  thought  that  this  heretic  was  the  one  little 
seed  which  might  spread  and  spread  until  it  choked  the 
chosen  vineyard  of  the  Church.  Now,  when  he  saw  him 
rush  so  suddenly  down  the  ladder,  every  fear  was  banished 
from  his  mind  save  the  overpowering  one  that  he  was  about 
to  lose  his  precious  charge.  He,  too,  clambered  down  at 
the  very  heels  of  his  prisoner,  and  rushed  into  the  stream 
not  ten  paces  behind  him. 

352 


And  so  the  watchers  at  the  window  saw  tho  strangest  of 
sights.  There  in  mid-stream  lay  the  canoe,  with  its  burden 
of  dark  warriors,  and  the  two  women  crouching  in  the  midst 
of  them.  Swimming  madly  towards  them  was  de  Catinat, 
rising  to  the  shoulders  with  the  strength  of  every  stroke,  and 
behind  him  again  was  the  tonsured  head  of  the  friar,  with 
his  dark  capot  and  long  trailing  gown  floating  upon  the  sur- 
face of  the  water.  But  in  his  zeal  he  had  thought  too  little 
of  his  own  powers.  He  was  a  good  swimmer,  but  he  was 
weighed  and  hampered  by  his  unwieldy  clothes.  Slower 
and  slower  grew  his  stroke,  and  lower  and  lower  his  head, 
until  at  last,  with  a  great  shriek  of  "  In  manus  tuas,  Domine  !" 
he  threw  up  his  hands,  and  vanished  in  the  swirl  of  the  river. 
A  minute  later  the  watchers,  hoarse  with  screaming  to  him 
to  return,  saw  de  Catinat  pulled  aboard  the  Iroquois  canoe, 
which  was  instantly  turned,  and  continued  its  course  up  the 
river. 

"  My  God  !"  cried  Amos,  hoarsely.  "  They  have  taken 
him  !  he  is  lost !" 

"  I  have  seen  some  strange  things  in  these  forty  years, 
but  never  the  like  of  that!"  said  Du  Lhut. 

The  Seigneur  took  a  little  pinch  of  snuff  from  his  gold 
box,  and  flicked  the  wandering  grains  from  his  shirt-front 
with  his  dainty  lace  handkerchief. 

"  Monsieur  de  Catinat  has  acted  like  a  gentleman  of 
France,"  said  he.  "  If  I  could  swim  now  as  I  did  thirty 
years  ago,  I  should  be  by  his  side." 

Du  Lhut  glanced  round  him  and  shook  his  head.  "  We 
are  only  six  now,"  said  he.  "  I  fear  that  they  are  up  to 
some  devilry  because  they  are  so  very  still." 

"  They  are  leaving  the  house !"  cried  the  censitaire,  who 
was  peeping  through  one  of  the  side  windows.  "  What  can 
it  mean  ?  Holy  Virgin  !  is  it  possible  that  we  are  saved  ? 
See  how  they  throng  through  the  trees  !  They  are  making 
for  the  canoe.  Now  they  are  waving  their  arms  and  point- 
ing." 

"  There  is  the  gray  hat  of  that  mongrel  devil  amongst 
them,"  said  the  captain.  "  I  would  try  a  shot  upon  him 
were  it  not  a  waste  of  powder  and  lead." 

353 


"  I  have  hit  the  mark  at  as  long  a  range,"  said  Amos,  push- 
ing his  long  brown  gun  through  a  chink  in  the  barricade 
which  they  had  thrown  across  the  lower  half  of  the  window. 
"  I  would  give  my  next  year's  trade  to  bring  him  down." 

"  It  is  forty  paces  farther  than  my  musket  would  carry," 
remarked  Du  Lhut,  "  but  I  have  seen  the  English  shoot  a 
great  way  with  those  long  guns." 

Amos  took  a  steady  aim,  resting  his  gun  upon  the  win- 
dow-sill, and  fired.  A  shout  of  delight  burst  from  the  little 
knot  of  survivors.  The  Flemish  Bastard  had  fallen.  But 
he  was  on  his  feet  again  in  an  instant,  and  shook  his  hand 
defiantly  at  the  window. 

"  Curse  it !"  cried  Amos,  bitterly,  in  English,  "  I  have  hit 
him  with  a  spent  ball.  As  well  strike  him  with  a  pebble." 

"Nay,  curse  not,  Amos  lad,  but  try  him  again  with  another 
pinch  of  powder,  if  your  gun  will  stand  it." 

The  woodsman  thrust  in  a  full  charge  and  chose  a  well- 
rounded  bullet  from  his  bag,  but  when  he  looked  again  both 
the  Bastard  and  his  warriors  had  disappeared.  On  the 
river  the  single  Iroquois  canoe,  which  held  the  captives, 
was  speeding  south  as  swiftly  as  twenty  paddles  could  drive 
it ;  but,  save  this  one  dark  streak  upon  the  blue  stream,  not 
a  sign  was  to  be  seen  of  their  enemies.  They  had  vanished 
as  if  they  had  been  an  evil  dream.  There  was  the  bullet- 
spotted  stockade,  the  litter  of  dead  bodies  inside  it,  the 
burned  and  roofless  cottages,  but  the  silent  woods  lay 
gleaming  in  the  morning  sunshine  as  quiet  and  peaceful  as 
if  no  helUburst  of  fiends  had  ever  broken  out  from  them. 

"  By  my  faith,  I  believe  that  they  have  gone,"  cried  the 
Seigneur. 

"  Take  care  that  it  is  not  a  ruse,"  said  Du  Lhut.  "  Why 
should  they  fly  before  six  men  when  they  have  conquered 
sixty  ?" 

But  the  censitaire  had  looked  out  of  the  other  window, 
and  in  an  instant  he  was  down  upon-  his  knees,  with  his 
hands  in  the  air  and  his  powder-blackened  face  turned  up- 
ward pattering  out  prayers  and  thanksgivings.  His  five 
comrades  rushed  across  the  room,  and  burst  into  a  shriek 
of  joy.  The  lower  reach  of  the  river  was  covered  with  a 

354 


flotilla  of  canoes,  from  which  the  sun  struck  quick  flashes 
as  it  shone  upon  the  musket-barrels  and  trappings  of  the 
crews.  Already  they  could  see  the  white  coats  of  the  regu- 
lars, the  brown  tunics  of  the  coureurs  de  bois,  and  the  gaudy 
colors  of  the  Hurons  and  Algonquins.  On  they  swept,  dot- 
ting the  whole  breadth  of  the  river,  and  growing  larger  every 
instant,  while  far  away  on  the  southern  bend  the  Iroquois 
canoe  was  a  mere  moving  dot,  which  had  shot  away  to  the 
farther  side,  and  had  lost  itself  presently  under  the  shadow 
of  the  trees.  Another  minute,  and  the  survivors  were  out 
upon  the  bank,  waving  their  caps  in  the  air,  while  the  prows 
of  the  first  of  their  rescuers  were  already  grating  upon  the 
pebbles.  In  the  stern  of  the  very  foremost  canoe  sat  a 
wizened  little  man  with  a  large  brown  wig,  and  a  gilt-headed 
rapier  laid  across  his  knees.  He  sprang  out  as  the  keel 
touched  bottom,  splashing  through  the  shallow  water  with 
his  high  leather  boots,  and  rushing  up  to  the  Seigneur,  he 
flung  himself  into  his  arms. 

"  My  dear  Charles,"  he  cried,  "you  have  held  your  house 
like  a  hero  !  What,  only  six  of  you  !  Tut !  tut !  this  has 
been  a*  bloody  business  !" 

"  I  knew  that  you  would  not  desert  a  comrade,  Chambly. 
We  have  saved  the  house,  but  our  losses  have  been  terrible. 
My  son  is  dead.  My  wife  is  in  that  Iroquois  canoe  in  front 
of  you." 

The  commander  of  Fort  St.  Louis  pressed  his  friend's 
hand  in  silent  sympathy. 

"  The  others  arrived  all  safe,"  he  said  at  last  "  Only 
that  one  was  taken,  on  account  of  the  breaking  of  a  paddle. 
Three  were  drowned  and  two  taken.  There  was  a  French 
lady  in  it,  I  understand,  as  well  as  madame." 

"  Yes,  and  they  have  taken  her  husband  also." 

"  Ah,  poor  souls  !  Well,  if  you  are  strong  enough  to  join 
us,  you  and  your  friends,  we  shall  follow  after  them  without 
the  loss  of  an  instant.  Ten  of  my  men  will  remain  to 
guard  the  house,  and  you  can  have  their  canoe.  Jump 
in,  then,  and  forward,  for  life  and  death  hang  upon  our 
speed !" 

355 


CHAPTER   XL 
UNITED 

THE  Iroquois  had  not  treated  de  Catinat  harshly  when 
they  dragged  him  from  the  water  into  their  canoe.  So  in- 
comprehensible was  it  to  them  why  any  man  should  volun- 
tarily leave  a  place  of  safety  in  order  to  put  himself  in  their 
power  that  they  could  only  set  it  down  to  madness,  a  malady 
which  inspires  awe  and  respect  among  the  Indians.  They 
did  not  even  tie  his  wrists,  for  why  should  he  attempt  to  es- 
cape when  he  had  come  of  his  own  free-will  ?  Two  warriors 
passed  their  hands  over  him,  to  be  sure  that  he  was  unarmed, 
and  he  was  then  thrust  down  between  the  two  women,  while 
the  canoe  darted  in  towards  the  bank  to  tell  the  others  that 
the  garrison  of  Fort  St.  Louis  was  coming  up  the  stream. 
Then  it  steered  out  again,  and  made  its  way  swiftly  up  the 
centre  of  the  river.  Adele  was  deadly  pale,  and  her  hand, 
as  her  husband  laid  his  upon  it,  was  as  cold  as  marble. 

"  My  darling,"  he  whispered,  "  tell  me  that  all  is  well  with 
you — that  you  are  unhurt !" 

"  Oh,  Amory,  why  did  you  come  ?  why  did  you  come, 
Amory  ?  (  Oh,  I  think  I  could  have  borne  anything,  but  if 
they  hurt  you,  I  could  not  bear  that." 

"  How  could  I  stay  behind  when  I  knew  that  you  were  in 
their  hands  ?  I  should  have  gone  mad  !" 

"  Ah,  it  was  my  one  consolation  to  think  that  you  were 
safe." 

"  No,  no ;  we  have  gone  through  so  much  together  that 
we  cannot  part  now.  What  is  death,  Adele  ?  Why  should 
we  be  afraid  of  it  ?" 

"  I  am  not  afraid  of  it." 

"  And  I  am  not  afraid  of  it.  Things  will  come  about  as 
356 


God  wills  it,  and  what  He  wills  must  in  the  end  be  the  best. 
If  we  live,  then,  we  have  this  memory  in  common.  If  we 
die,  then  we  go  hand  in  hand  into  another  life.  Courage, 
my  own,  all  will  be  well  with  us." 

"  Tell  me,  monsieur,"  said  Onega,  "  is  my  lord  still  liv- 
ing ?" 

"  Yes,  he  is  alive  and  well." 

"  It  is  good.  He  is  a  great  chief,  and  I  have  never  been 
sorry,  not  even  now,  that  I  have  wedded  with  one  who  was 
not  of  my  own  people.  But  ah,  my  son  !  Who  shall 
give  my  son  back  to  me  ?  He  was  like  the  young  sapling, 
so  straight,  and  so  strong  !  Who  could  run  with  him,  or 
leap  with  him,  or  swim  with  him  ?  Ere  that  sun  shines 
again  we  shall  all  be  dead,  and  my  heart  is  glad,  for  I  shall 
see  my  boy  once  more." 

The  Iroquois  paddlers  had  bent  to  their  work  until  a 
good  ten  miles  lay  between  them  and  Sainte-Marie.  Then 
they  ran  the  canoe  into  a  little  creek  upon  their  own  side 
of  the  river,  and  sprang  out  of  her,  dragging  the  prisoners 
after  them.  The  canoe  was  carried  on  the  shoulders  of 
eight  men  some  distance  into  the  wood,  where  they  con- 
cealed it  between  two  fallen  trees,  heaping  a  litter  of 
branches  over  it  to  screen  it  from  view.  Then,  after  a  short 
council,  they  started  through  the  forest,  walking  in  single 
file,  with  their  three  prisoners  in  the  middle.  There  were 
fifteen  warriors  in  all,  eight  in  front  and  seven  behind,  all 
armed  with  muskets,  and  as  swift-footed  as  deer,  so  that 
escape  was  out  of  the  question.  They  could  but  follow  on, 
and  wait  in  patience  for  whatever  might  befall  them. 

All  day  they  pursued  their  dreary  march,  picking  their 
way  through  vast  morasses,  skirting  the  borders  of  blue 
woodland  lakes  where  the  gray  stork  flapped  heavily  up 
from  the  reeds  at  their  approach,  or  plunging  into  dark 
belts  of  woodland  where  it  is  always  twilight,  and  where  the 
falling  of  the  wild  chestnuts,  and  the  chatter  of  the  squirrels 
a  hundred  feet  above  their  heads,  were  the  only  sounds 
which  broke  the  silence.  Onega  had  the  endurance  of  the 
Indians  themselves,  but  Adele,  in  spite  of  her  former  jour- 
neys, was  foot-sore  and  weary  before  evening.  It  was  a  re- 

357 


lief  to  de  Catinat,  therefore,  when  the  red  glow  of  a  great 
fire  beat  suddenly  through  the  tree  trunks,  and  they  came 
upon  an  Indian  camp  in  which  was  assembled  the  greater 
part  of  the  war-party  which  had  been  driven  from  Sainte- 
Marie.  Here,  too,  were  a  number  of  the  squaws  who  had 
come  from  the  Mohawk  and  Cayuga  villages  in  order  to  be 
nearer  to  the  warriors.  Wigwams  had  been  erected  all 
round  in  a  circle,  and  before  each  of  them  were  the  kettles, 
slung  upon  a  tripod  of  sticks,  in  which  the  evening  meal 
was  being  cooked.  In  the  centre  of  all  was  a  very  fierce 
fire,  which  had  been  made  of  brushwood  placed  in  a  circle 
so  as  to  have  a  clear  space  of  twelve  feet  in  the  middle.  A 
pole  stood  up  in  the  centre  of  this  clearing,  and  something 
all  mottled  with  red  and  black  was  tied  up  against  it.  De 
Catinat  stepped  swiftly  in  front  of  Adele,  that  she  might  not 
see  the  dreadful  thing,  but  he  was  too  late.  She  shuddered, 
and  drew  a  quick  breath  between  her  pale  lips,  but  no 
sound  escaped  her. 

"  They  have  begun  already,  then,"  said  Onega,  compos- 
edly. "  Well,  it  will  be  our  turn  next,  and  we  shall  show 
them  that  we  know  how  to  die." 

"They  have  not  ill-used  us  yet,"  said  de  Catinat;  "per- 
haps they  will  keep  us  for  ransom  or  exchange." 

The  Indian  woman  shook  her  head.  "  Do  not  deceive 
yourself  by  any  such  hope,"  said  she.  "  When  they  are  as 
gentle  as  they  have  been  with  you  it  is  ever  a  sign  that  you 
are  reserved  for  the  torture.  Your  wife  will  be  married  to 
one  of  their  chiefs,  but  you  and  I  must  die,  for  you  are  a 
warrior,  and  I  am  too  old  for  a  squaw." 

"  Married  to  an  Iroquois  !"  Those  dreadful  words  shot  a 
pang  through  both  their  hearts  which  no  thought  of  death 
could  have  done.  De  Catinat's  head  dropped  forward 
upon  his  chest,  and  he  staggered  and  would  have  fallen  had 
Adele  not  caught  him  by  the  arm. 

"  Do  not  fear,  dear  Amory,"  she  whispered.  "  Other 
things  may  happen,  but  not  that,  for  I  swear  to  you  that  I 
shall  not  survive  you.  No ;  it  may  be  sin  or  it  may  not,  but 
if  death  will  not  come  to  me,  I  will  go  to  it." 

De  Catinat  looked  down  at  the  gentle  face  which  had  set 
353 


now  into  the  hard  lines  of  an  immutable  resolve.  He  knew 
that  it  would  be  as  she  had  said,  and  that,  come  what  might, 
that  last  outrage  would  not  befall  them.  Could  he  ever 
have  believed  that  the  time  would  come  when  it  would  send 
a  thrill  of  joy  through  his  heart  to  know  that  his  wife  would 
die? 

As  they  entered  the  Iroquois  village  the  squaws  and  war- 
riors had  rushed  towards  them,  and  they  walked  through  a 
double  line  of  hideous  faces,  which  jeered  and  gibed  and 
howled  at  them  as  they  passed.  Their  escort  led  them 
through  this  rabble,  and  conducted  them  to  a  hut  which 
stood  apart.  It  was  empty,  save  for  some  willow  fishing- 
nets  hanging  at  the  side,  and  a  heap  of  pumpkins  stored  in 
the  corner. 

"The  chiefs  will  come  and  will  decide  upon  what  is  to 
be  done  with  us,"  said  Onega.  "  Here  they  are  coming 
now,  and  you  will  soon  see  that  I  am  right,  for  I  know  the 
ways  of  my  own  people." 

An  instant  later  an  old  war  chief,  accompanied  by  two 
younger  braves  and  by  the  bearded  half-  Dutch  Iroquois 
who  had  led  the  attack  upon  the  manor-house,  strolled  over 
and  stood  in  the  doorway,  looking  in  at  the  prisoners,  and 
shooting  little  gutteral  sentences  at  each  other.  The  totems 
of  the  hawk,  the  wolf,  the  bear,  and  the  snake  showed  that 
each  represented  one  of  the  great  families  of  the  nation. 
The  Bastard  was  smoking  a  stone  pipe,  and  yet  it  was  he 
who  talked  the  most,  arguing  apparently  with  one  of  the 
younger  savages,  who  seemed  to  come  round  at  last  to  his 
opinion.  Finally,  the  old  chief  said  a  few  short  stern  words, 
and  the  matter  appeared  to  be  settled. 

"  And  you,  you  beldam,"  said  the  Bastard,  in  French,  to 
the  Iroquois  woman,  "  you  will  have  a  lesson  this  night 
which  will  teach  you  to  side  against  your  own  people  !" 

"  You  half-bred  mongrel,"  replied  the  fearless  old  woman, 
"  you  should  take  that  hat  from  your  head  when  you  speak 
to  one  in  whose  veins  runs  the  best  blood  of  the  Ononda- 
gas.  You  a  warrior  —  you  who,  with  a  thousand  at  your 
back,  could  not  make  your  way  into  a  little  house  with  a 
few  poor  husbandmen  within  it !  It  is  no  wonder  that  your 

359 


father's  people  have  cast  you  out.  Go  back  and  work  at 
the  beads,  or  play  at  the  game  of  plum-stones,  for  some  day 
in  the  woods  you  might  meet  with  a  man,  and  so  bring  dis- 
grace on  the  nation  which  has  taken  you  into  it." 

The  evil  face  of  the  Bastard  grew  livid  as  he  listened  to 
the  scornful  words  which  were  hissed  at  him  by  the  captive. 
He  strode  across  to  her,  and  taking  her  hand  he  thrust  the 
forefinger  into  the  burning  bowl  of  his  pipe.  She  made  no 
effort  to  remove  it,  but  sat  with  a  perfectly  set  face  for  a 
minute  or  more,  looking  out  through  the  open  door- at  the 
evening  sunlight  and  the  little  groups  of  chattering  Indians. 
He  had  watched  her  keenly  in  the  hope  of  hearing  a  cry,  or 
seeing  some  spasm  of  agony  upon  her  face,  but  at  last,  with 
a  curse,  he  dashed  down  her  hand  and  strode  from  the  hut. 
She  thrust  her  charred  finger  into  her  bosom  and  laughed. 

"  He  is  a  good-for-naught !"  she  cried.  "  He  does  not 
even  know  how  to  torture.  Now  I  could  have  got  a  cry 
out  of  him.  I  am  sure  of  it.  But  you — monsieur — you  are 
very  white !" 

"  It  was  the  sight  of  such  a  hellish  deed.  Ah,  if  we  were 
but  set  face  to  face,  I  with  my  sword,  he  with  what  weapon 
he  chose,  by  God  he  should  pay  for  it  with  his  heart's 
blood  !" 

The  Indian  woman  seemed  surprised.  "  It  is  strange  to 
me,"  she  said,  "  that  you  should  think  of  what  befalls  me, 
when  you  are  yourself  under  the  same  shadow.  But  our 
fate  will  be  as  I  said." 

"Ah!" 

"  You  and  I  are  to  die  at  the  stake.  She  is  to  be  given 
to  the  dog  who  has  left  us." 

"  Adele  I  Adele  !  What  shall  I  do  ?"  He  tore  his  hair 
in  his  helplessness  and  distraction. 

"  No,  no,  fear  not,  Amory,  for  my  heart  will  not  fail  me. 
What  is  the  pang  of  death  if  it  binds  us  together  ?" 

"The  younger  chief  pleaded  for  you,  saying  that  the 
Mitche  Manitou  had  stricken  you  with  madness,  as  could 
be  seen  by  your  swimming  to  their  canoe,  and  that  a  blight 
would  fall  upon  the  nation  if  you  were  led  to  the  stake. 
But  this  Bastard  said  that  love  came  often  like  madness 

360 


among  the  pale-faces,  and  that  it  was  that  atone  which  had 
driven  you.  Then  it  was  agreed  that  ycu  should  die,  and 
that  she  should  go  to  his  wigwam,  since  he  had  led  the  war- 
party.  As  for  me  their  hearts  were  bitter  against  me,  and 
I  also  am  to  die  by  the  pine-splinters." 

De  Catinat  breathed  a  prayer  that  he  might  meet  his  fate 
like  a  soldier  and  a  gentleman. 

"  When  is  it  to  be  ?"  he  asked. 

"  Now.  At  once.  They  have  gone  to  make  all  ready. 
But  you  have  time  yet,  for  I  am  to  go  first." 

"  Amory,  Amory,  could  we  not  die  together  now  ?"  cried 
Adele,  throwing  her  arms  round  her  husband.  "  If  it  be 
sin,  it  is  surely  a  sin  which  will  be  forgiven  us.  Let  us  go, 
dear.  Let  us  leave  these  dreadful  people  and  this  cruel 
world,  and  turn  where  we  shall  find  peace." 

The  Indian  woman's  eyes  flashed  with  satisfaction.  "  You 
have  spoken  well,  White  Lily,"  said  she.  "Why  should  you 
wait  until  it  is  their  pleasure  to  pluck  you  ?  See,  already 
the  glare  of  their  fire  beats  upon  the  tree  trunks,  and  you 
can  hear  the  howlings  of  those  who  thirst  for  your  blood. 
If  you  die  by  your  own  hands,  they  will  be  robbed  of  their 
spectacle,  and  their  chief  will  have  lost  his  bride.  So  you 
will  be  the  victors  in  the  end,  and  they  the  vanquished. 
You  have  said  rightly,  White  Lily.  There  lies  the  only  path 
for  you." 

"  But  how  to  take  it  ?" 

Onega  glanced  keenly  at  the  two  warriors  who  stood  as 
sentinels  at  the  door  of  the  hut.  They  had  turned  away, 
absorbed  in  the  horrible  preparations  which  were  going  on. 
Then  she  rummaged  deeply  within  the  folds  of  her  loose 
gown,  and  pulled  out  a  small  pistol  with  two  brass  barrels 
and  double  triggers  in  the  form  of  winged  dragons.  It  was 
only  a  toy  to  look  at,  all  carved  and  scrolled  and  graven 
with  the  choicest  work  of  the  Paris  gunsmith.  For  its  beauty 
the  Seigneur  had  bought  it  at  his  last  visit  to  Quebec,  and 
yet  it  might  be  useful  too,  and  it  was  loaded  in  both  barrels. 

"  I  meant  to  use  it  on  myself,"  said  she,  as  she  slipped  it 
into  the  hand  of  de  Catinat.  "  But  now  I  am  minded  to 
show  them  that  I  can  die  as  an  Onondaga  should  die,  and 

361 


that  I  am  worthy  to  have  the  blood  of  their  chiefs  in  my 
veins.  Take  it,  for  I  swear  that  I  will  not  use  it  myself, 
unless  it  be  to  fire  both  bullets  into  that  Bastard's  heart." 

A  flush  of  joy  shot  over  de  Catinat  as  his  fingers  closed 
round  the  pistoj.  Here  was,  indeed,  a  key  to  'Unlock  the 
gates  of  peace.  Adele  had  laid  her  cheek  against  his 
shoulder,  and  laughed  with  pleasure. 

"  You  will  forgive  me,  dear  ?"  he  whispered. 

"  Forgive  you  !  I  bless  you,  and  love  you  with  my  whole 
heart  and  soul.  Clasp  me  close,  darling,  and  say  one  prayer 
before  you  do  it." 

They  had  sunk  on  their  knees  together,  when  three  war- 
riors entered  the  hut  and  said  a  few  abrupt  words  to  their 
countrywoman.  She  rose  with  a  smile. 

"  They  are  waiting  for  me,"  said  she.  "  You  shall  see, 
White  Lily,  and  you  also,  monsieur,  how  well  I  know  what 
is  due  to  my  position.  Farewell,  and  remember  Onega !" 
She  smiled  again,  and  walked  from  the  hut  amid  the  war- 
riors with  the  quick  firm  step  of  a  queen  who  sweeps  to  a 
throne. 

"  Now,  Amory,"  whispered  Adele,  closing  her  eyes,  and 
nestling  still  closer  to  him. 

He  raised  the  pistol,  and  then,  with  a  quick  sudden  in- 
taking  of  the  breath,  he  dropped  it,  and  knelt  with  glaring 
eyes,  looking  up  at  a  tree  which  faced  the  open  door  of  the 
hut. 

It  was  a  beech-tree,  exceedingly  old  and  gnarled,  with  its 
bark  hanging  down  in  strips,  and  its  whole  trunk  spotted 
with  moss  and  mould.  Some  ten  feet  above  the  ground 
the  main  trunk  divided  into  two,  and  in  the  fork  thus  formed 
a  hand  had  suddenly  appeared,  a  large  reddish  hand,  which 
shook  frantically  from  side  to  side  in  passionate  dissuasion. 
The  next  instant,  as  the  two  captives  still  stared  in  amaze- 
ment, the  hand  disappeared  behind  the  trunk  again,  and  a 
face  appeared  in  its  place,  which  still  shook  from  side  to 
side  as  resolutely  as  its  forerunner.  It  was  impossible  to 
mistake  that  mahogany  wrinkled  skin,  the  huge  bristling 
eyebrows,  or  the  little  glistening  eyes.  It  was  Captain 
Ephraim  Savage,  of  Boston. 

362 


And  even  as  they  stared  and  wondered  a  sudden  shrill 
whistle  burst  out  from  the  depths  of  the  forest,  and  in  a 
moment  every  bush  and  thicket  and  patch  of  brushwood 
were  sprouting  fire  and  smoke,  while  the  snarl  of  the  mus- 
ketry ran  round  the  whole  glade,  and  the  storm  of  bullets 
whizzed  and  pelted  among  the  yelling  savages.  The  Iro- 
quois  sentinels  had  been  drawn  in  by  their  bloodthirsty 
craving  to  see  the  prisoners  die,  and  now  the  Canadians 
were  upon  them,  and  they  were  hemmed  in  by  a  ring  of 
fire.  First  one  way  and  then  another  they  rushed,  to  be 
met  always  by  the  same  blast  of  death,  until,  finding  at  last 
some  gap  in  the  attack,  they  streamed  off,  like  sheep  through 
a  broken  fence,  and  rushed  madly  away  into  the  forest,  with 
the  bullets  of  their  pursuers  still  singing  about  their  ears, 
until  the  whistle  sounded  again  to  recall  the  woodsmen 
from  the  chase. 

But  there  was  one  savage  who  had  found  work  to  do  be- 
fore he  fled.  The  Flemish  Bastard  had  preferred  his  ven- 
geance to  his  safety.  Rushing  at  Onega,  he  buried  his  tom- 
ahawk in  her  brain,  and  then,  yelling  his  war-cry,  he  waved 
the  blood-stained  weapon  above  his  head,  and  rushed  into 
the  hut  where  the  prisoners  still  knelt.  De  Catinat  saw 
him  coming,  and  a  mad  joy  glistened  in  his  eyes.  He  rose 
to  meet  him,  and  as  he  rushed  in,  he  fired  both  barrels  of 
his  pistol  into  the  Bastard's  face.  An  instant  later  a  swarm 
of  Canadians  had  rushed  over  the  writhing  body,  the  cap- 
tives felt  warm  friendly  hands  which  grasped  their  own,  and 
looking  upon  the  smiling  well-known  faces  of  Amos  Green, 
Savage,  and  Du  Lhut,  they  knew  that  peace  had  come  to 
them  at  last. 

And  so  the  refugees  came  to  the  end  of  the  toils  of  their 
journey,  for  that  winter  was  spent  by  them  in  peace  at  Sainte- 
Marie ;  and  in  the  spring,  the  Iroquois  having  carried  the 
war  to  the  upper  St.  Lawrence,  the  travellers  were  able  to 
descend  into  the  English  provinces,  and  so  to  make  their 
way  down  the  Hudson  to  New  York,  where  a  warm  welcome 
awaited  them  from  the  family  of  Amos  Green.  The  friend- 
ship between  the  two  men  was  now  so  cemented  together 

2C  363 


by  common  memories  and  common  dangers  that  they  soon 
became  partners  in  fur-trading,  and  the  name  of  the  French- 
man came  at  last  to  be  as  familiar  in  the  mountains  of 
Maine  and  on  the  slopes  of  the  Alleghanies  as  it  had  once 
been  in  the  salons  and  corridors  of  Versailles.  In  time  de 
Catinat  built  a  house  on  Staten  Island,  where  many  of  his 
fellow-refugees  had  settled,  and  much  of  what  he  won  from 
his  fur-trading  was  spent  in  the  endeavor  to  help  his  strug- 
gling Huguenot  brothers.  Amos  Green  had  married  a 
Dutch  maiden  of  Schenectady,  and  as  Adele  and  she  be- 
came inseparable  friends,  the  marriage  served  to  draw  closer 
the  ties  of  love  which  held  the  two  families  together. 

As  to  Captain  Ephraim  Savage,  he  returned  safely  to  his 
beloved  Boston,  where  he  fulfilled  his  ambition  by  building 
himself  a  fair  brick  house  upon  the  rising  ground  in  the 
northern  part  of  the  city,  whence  he  could  look  down  both 
upon  the  shipping  in  the  river  and  the  bay.  There  he  lived, 
much  respected  by  his  townsfolk,  who  made  him  selectman 
and  alderman,  and  gave  him  the  command  of  a  goodly  ship 
when  Sir  William  Phipps  made  his  attack  upon  Quebec,  and 
found  that  the  old  lion  Frontenac  was  not  to  be  driven  from 
his  lair.  So,  honored  by  all,  the  seaman  lived  to  an  age 
which  carried  him  deep  into  the  next  century,  when  he  could 
already  see  with  his  dim  eyes  something  of  the  growing 
greatness  of  his  country. 

The  manor-house  of  La  Sainte-Marie  was  soon  restored 
.to  its  former  prosperity,  but  its  seigneur  was,  from  the  day 
that  he  had  lost  his  wife  and  son,  a  changed  man.  He  grew 
leaner,  fiercer,  less  human,  forever  heading  parties  which 
made  their  way  into  the  Iroquois  woods,  and  which  outri- 
valled  the  savages  themselves  in  the  terrible  nature  of  their 
deeds.  A  day  came  at  last  when  he  sallied  out  upon  one 
of  these  expeditions,  from  which  neither  he  nor  any  of  his 
men  ever  returned. 

Many  a  terrible  secret  is  hid  by  those  silent  woods,  and 
the  fate  of  Charles  de  la  Noue,  Seigneur  de  Sainte-Marie, 
is  among  them. 


NOTE   ON   THE   HUGUENOTS   AND   THEIR   DISPERSION. 

Towards  the  latter  quarter  of  the  seventeenth  century  there  was  hard- 
ly an  important  industry  in  France  which  was  not  controlled  by  the 
Huguenots,  so  that,  numerous  as  they  were,  their  importance  was  out 
of  all  proportion  to  their  numbers.  The  cloth  trade  of  the  North  and 
the  South-east,  the  manufacture  of  serges  and  light  stuffs  in  Languedoc, 
the  linen  trade  of  Normandy  and  Brittany,  the  silk  and  velvet  industry  of 
Tours  and  Lyons,  the  glass  of  Normandy,  the  paper  of  Auvergne  and 
Angoumois,  the  jewelry  of  the  Isle  of  France,  the  tanyards  of  Touraine, 
the  iron  and  tin  work  of  the  Sedanais — all  these  were  largely  owned  and 
managed  by  Huguenots.  The  numerous  saint-days  of  the  Catholic  cal- 
endar handicapped  their  rivals,  and  it  was  computed  that  the  Protestant 
worked  310  days  in  the  year  to  his  fellow-countryman's  260. 

A  very  large  number  of  the  Huguenot  refugees  were  brought  back, 
and  the  jails  and  galleys  of  France  were  crowded  with  them.  One  hun- 
dred thousand  settled  in  Friesland  and  Holland,  25,000  in  Switzerland, 
75,000  in  Germany,  and  50,000  in  England.  Some  made  their  way  even 
to  the  distant  Cape  of  Good  Hope,  where^hey  remained  in  the  Paarl  dis- 
trict. 

In  war  as  in  industry  the  exiles  were  -a  source  of  strength  to  the  coun- 
tries which  received  them.  Frenchmen  drilled  the  Russian  armies  of 
Peter  the  Great,  a  Huguenot  count  became  commander-in  -chief  in  Den- 
mark, and  Schomberg  led  the  army  of  Brandenburg,  and  afterwards 
that  of  England. 

In  England  three  Huguenot  regiments  were  formed  for  the  service  of 
William.  The  exiles  established  themselves  as  silk-workers  in  Spital- 
fields,  cotton  -  spinners  at  Bideford,  tapestry  -  weavers  at  Exeter,  wool- 
carders  at  Taunton,  kersey-makers  at  Norwich,  weavers  at  Canterbury, 
hat-makers  at  Wandsworth,  sail-cloth  makers  at  Ipswich,  workers  in  calico 
in  Bromley,  glass  in  Sussex,  paper  at  Laverstock,  cambric  at  Edinburgh. 

Early  Protestant  refugees  had  taken  refuge  in  America  twenty  years 
before  the  Revocation,  where  they  formed  a  colony  at  Staten  Island.  A 
body  came  to  Boston  in  1684,  and  were  given  11,000  acres  at  Oxford,  by 
order  of  the  General  Court  of  Massachusetts.  In  New  York  and  Long 
Island  colonies  sprang  up,  and  later  in  Virginia  (the  Monacan  Settle- 
ment), in  Maryland,  and  in  South  Carolina  (French  Santee  and  Orange 
Quarter). 


NOTE  ON  THE  FUTURE  OF  LOUIS,  MADAME  DE  MAINTENON, 
AND  MADAME  DE  MONTESPAN. 

It  has  been  left  to  our  own  century  to  clear  the  fair  fame  of  Madame 
de  Maintenon  of  all  reproach,  and  to  show  her  as  what  she  was — a  pure 
woman  and  a  devoted  wife.  She  has  received  little  justice  from  the 
memoir-writers  of  the  seventeenth  century,  most  of  whom,  the  Due  de 

365 


St.  Simon  for  example,  and  the  Princess  Elizabeth  of  Bavaria,  had  their 
own  private  reasons  for  disliking  her.  An  admirable  epitome  of  her 
character  and  influence  will  be  found  in  Dr.  Bellinger's  Historical  Stud- 
ies. She  made  Louis  an  excellent  wife,  waited  upon  him  assiduously 
for  thirty  years  of  married  life,  influenced  him  constantly  towards  good 
— save  only  in  the  one  instance  of  the  Huguenots — and  finally  died  very 
shortly  after  her  husband. 

Madame  de  Montespan  lived  in  great  magnificence  after  the  triumph 
of  her  rival,  and  spent  freely  the  vast  sums  which  the  King's  generosity 
had  furnished  her  with.  Eventually,  having  exhausted  all  that  this 
world  could  offer,  she  took  to  hair-shirts  and  nail-studded  girdles  in  the 
hope  of  securing  a  good  position  in  the  next.  Her  horror  of  death  was 
excessive.  In  thunder-storms  she  sat  with  a  little  child  in  her  lap  in  the 
hope  that  its  innocence  might  shield  her  from  the  lightning.  She  slept 
always  with  her  room  ablaze  with  tapers,  and  with  several  women  watch- 
ing by  the  side  of  her  couch.  When  at  last  the  inevitable  arrived,  she 
left  her  body  for  the  family  tomb,  her  heart  to  the  Convent  of  La  Fleche, 
and  her  entrails  to  the  Priory^f  Menoux,  near  Bourbon.  These  latter 
were  thrust  into  a  box  and  g^ren  to  a  peasant  to  convey  to  the  priory. 
Curiosity  induced  him  to  look  into  the  box  upon  the  way,  and,  seeing 
the  contents,  he  supposed  himself  to  be  the  victim  of  a  practical  joke, 
and  emptied  them  out  into  a  ditch.  A  swine-herd  was  passing  at  the 
moment  with  his  pigs,  and  so  it  happened  that,  in  the  words  of  Mrs. 
Julia  Pardoe,  "  in  a  few  minutes  the  most  filthy  animals  in  creation  had 
devoured  portions  of  the  remains  of  one  of  the  haughtiest  women  who 
ever  trod  the  earth." 

Louis,  after  a  reign  of  more  than  fifty  years,  which  comprised  the  most 
brilliant  epoch  of  French  history,  died  at  last, in  1715,  amid  the  saddest 
surroundings.  One  by  one  those  whom  he  loved  had  preceded  him  to 
the  grave — his  brother,his  son,  the  two  sons  of  his  son,  their  wives,  and 
finally  his  favorite  great-grandson — until  he, the  old  dying  monarch,  with 
his  rouge  and  his  stays, was  left  with  only  a  little  infant-in-arms,  the  Due 
d'Anjou,  three  generations  away  from  him,  to  perpetuate  his  line.  On 
August  20,  1715,  he  was  attacked  by  senile  gangrene,  which  gradually 
spread  up  the  leg,  until  on  the  soth  it  became  fatal.  His  dying  words 
were  worthy  of  his  better  self  :  "  Gentlemen,  I  desire  your  pardon  for 
the  bad  example  which  I  have  set  you.  I  have  greatly  to  thank  you  for 
the  manner  in  which  you  have  served  me,  as  well  as  for  the  attachment 
and  fidelity  which  I  have  always  experienced  at  your  hands.  I  request 
from  you  the  same  zeal  and  fidelity  for  my  grandson.  Farewell,  gentle- 
men. I  feel  that  this  parting  has  affected  not  only  myself  but  you  also. 
Forgive  me  !  I  trust  that  you  will  sometimes  think  of  me  when  I  am 
gone." 


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